The 20th: They All Fall Down
by Chaos In Her Wake
Summary: Hot scarlet streams run in rivulets down their tortured bodies. Their lips part in agony so terrible that their screams are silent. Plagued by nightmares, they forever flee but can never escape. Let the 20th Annual Hunger Games begin. I do not own THG.
1. Chapter 1

**LEONOR EADE: DISTRICT NINE VICTOR OF THE 19TH HUNGER GAMES**

"And our most recent Victor, the lovely Leonor Eade all the way from District Nine!" the ridiculously cheesy voice of Octavius Cairns echoes around me as I saunter out from backstage. The only seat available onstage, unfortunately, is the one directly beside the interviewer. Of course, I have to be closer to him because I've dealt with him the least so far.

Then again, I've had to go through his mindless interrogations most recently, shouldn't that mean someone else could take this spot? Apparently not. "And here they all are, folks, the last five Victors of the Hunger Games!" The crowd bursts into cheers. I glance over at the other victors sitting on the interview stage- all together, we're the winners of the past five Games. They all stare back at me, four hollow pairs of eyes, grin at me with four forced smiles. I take my seat quickly and turn to face Octavius, eager to get this over with.

"Well, well, well," he begins, giving us a wolfish smirk, "It's been a while since I've seen some of you fine folks! Jehan, Jacks, how are you doing?" He stands up and walks past the first three chairs, straight to the two men at the end of the row. Jehan Brocade from One stands up and shakes his hand heartily; Jacks Martin of Five gets hauled to his feet by Octavius's grasp.

"I'm doing well, Octavius, how about you?" Jehan replies coolly; Jacks only manages a quiet 'I'm fine', which obviously isn't true. We watched kids die, some of us have been watching kids die for years now.

Octavius moves on to Newt Hillen, who is even more awkward than Jacks but at least he'll talk to you. He's talked to me once, trying to offer help after I'd won. But when you have Avia Brooke as a fellow mentor, Newt doesn't seem like such a big help. He's nice enough but totally broken. "Newt, it's been almost a year since we saw you last, how are things going?"

"I'm just living, Caesar, day by day."

"I heard you published your first book recently?" Newt nods in reply, smiling weakly. Octavius almost bounces up and down in excitement, making me roll me eyes and lean back in my chair huffily. It's just a dumb kids' book, what's the big deal? "Care to share any details?"

Newt flounders for a response at first, but he manages to stutter out, "It…it…it's about Neon." I have to pause for a second before I remember who that even is- his district partner during the Games.

I can't help but let an image of my district partner, a guy called Amir who thought he was the funniest person in Panem, flash through my mind. We weren't allies- I couldn't stand the boy. But he died twenty feet away from me in the bloodbath, speared through the neck and gurgling in pain. Yeah, that's something that gives me nightmares.

Octavius, still grinning at Newt like the poor guy is a piece of meat or something, waits for a few seconds before stepping back to Inez Carmen. What, was he expecting to get more information out of that kid? With two extremely awkward Victors in a row, Jacks and then Newt, Octavius should have learned by now that answers require questions.

"Why hello, Miss Carmen," he lifts her hand to his lips in what he thinks is a smooth greeting but hello, it's just creepy. She obviously thinks so too, as her smile distorts into a grimace for half a second.

Maybe I would like Inez more if she didn't let them control her so completely. She never stands up for herself in the Capitol, but behind closed doors she's a good person. And she survived the Games, that says a lot. But when she talks to Octavius, she's nothing more than a cardboard cutout, a total pawn.

"And how are you doing, almost a full two years from your own reaping?"

She hesitates at the question, fishing for the sort of answer that can be acceptably televised. "I'm doing as well as I can be expected to, Octavius. And you?"

Wow, look at her go, turning the conversation back to the interviewer. "I'm fine, dear. But we want to hear about you! This past year you mentored two tributes, your first pair, would you tell us about them?" The crowd hollers at that; they want information from the Capitol darling herself. It makes me queasy- when she won the Games nobody really liked her. She wasn't special to them like the boy from Two or the girl from Four. But now they all adore her. Ugh, so fickle.

"Ah…um… it was hard. Watching them go in there, and I had just turned nineteen. I was only a year older than the boy I was mentoring. And… and he…"

Yeah, I remember him. Killed by the Pack in the middle of the Games, almost made the Top Eight.

Inez continues, pulling herself together and brushing at her eyes for a moment before moving on. "The girl, as well, Neva Vallejos… I used to know her. She is- was- three years younger than me but we were in the same school for a while. Isadora knew her older brother."

I saw Neva die in the bloodbath.

Octavius puts his hand over his heart like he's actually sad but his emotions pick right back up when he comes over to me. My stomach churns at his wolfish grin. "Well, well, well, our newest Victor! Miss Eade, how are you faring a year after victory?"

I snort. "Same as I was at the Victory Tour, you interviewed me then, right?"

My reply sends the audience into raucous laughter. Octavius even chuckles before continuing. "Oh, Leonor, you're so amusing."

"Yeah, and you're so dry, can we move on? I'm not much of an interview person." More laughter. Not my intent but it's not like I get a choice in anything anymore.

"Certainly, Leonor, we've only got a certain amount of time allotted for this program and I've wasted too much already greeting you lovely people!" He finally takes his seat next to me and settles back into sedentary comfort.

Maybe we should put him in the Hunger Games and see what happens. Yeah, I'd like that.

"First, we have to catch up with all of you. How have you been? What's happened in your lives? You're front page news, all of you, but sometimes we just need a refresher." His own lame jokes elicit a few giggles from the crowd. "Who's got news to share with us? We've heard about Newt's book already, what's next?"

Jehan raises his hand; for a second I think the twenty-two year old has forgotten that he's no longer in school, but when I see a gleam on his fourth finger I get the point. So does the audience- they go wild in the largest fangirling session I've seen in my whole life. Octavius can't contain his childish glee either, he bounces in his seat like a five-year-old who needs to go to the bathroom.

"Yes, your engagement!" Just the word brings on another round of screams. "It's not every day that a Victor gets engaged, now is it? How's Atticus doing?"

Jehan can hardly answer through his laughter. "He's doing well, Octavius, we're both doing well!" That's surprising. I mean, if you've killed however many people and can still manage relationships, that's great, but good luck. Atticus just got engaged to a murderer.

The interviewer makes a motion to one of the media people and a paparazzi photo appears on the screen behind us of Jehan and Atticus walking through the Capitol. The Capitol screams again, giving Jehan and Octavius enough time to recover completely before the interview moves on. I catch Octavius shooting sideways glances towards Newt… oh no, I know exactly what's coming.

"Some people have gained things this past year… but others have lost. Newt, you have a very poignant story about the most recent Games. Why don't we hear some stories from those few weeks to set us up for the annual event- reminder, folks, the reapings are tomorrow!"

Newt goes a few shades paler than his already pasty complexion, which I find sort of impressive. But even I can't put in the effort to be cynical right now as he begins to speak. "Danny and Laya… I lost them both." He's already choking up, tearing the Capitol's emotions to shreds as he goes. "Two of my closest friends, and they both went into the Games… it's still surreal, how could both of them die?"

The pair from District Three- a sweet girl and her argumentative friend. Danny and Laya. I don't remember how Laya died… but Danny… wounded, he stumbled across me deep in the bowels of our arena- a huge pyramid. I was already fleeing the mutations that had been sent out after the tributes- the mummified remains of those already dead. Amir had come after me, moaning. They couldn't have been real, since they didn't show signs of wounds, but still… they cried out for help.

I bumped into Danny and all I remember is the fear, the adrenaline fueling my system. And I remember shoving him to the ground and leaving him behind.

And I remember his cannon firing.

Maybe that's why I avoid talking to Newt. It doesn't matter, he's friends with Mags from Four and I have Avia and Inez.

Another cheer from the Capitol snaps me back to reality. Everyone I can see aside from my fellow Victors is doubled over in their seats, cackling. Octavius finishes saying something to Jacks and then turns triumphantly to me.

"Come on, Leo dear, you have to agree that was funny! I'm not so dry as you think I am, hah!"

I sigh. "You're funny, Octavius."

"I do pride myself on my wit!"

"Nah, idiot, you're funny because you think we're celebrities. It's the day before the Reapings, why are we talking about the past when we could be getting scared about the future?"

Octavius, more than a little hurt, checks his watch. "We've only got a little while left, so I suppose we can discuss that."

Wait, he took me seriously? I just don't want to talk anymore!

Jacks leans forward cautiously and people shush each other to hear him speak. I roll my eyes. Ohh, how special! He's actually going to speak! Such a milestone! "The arena, Octavius, do we know anything about that yet?"

The interviewer wiggles his purple-caterpillar eyebrows at us nauseatingly. "Indeed we do, Mr. Martin!"

The stage goes so quiet that Octavius's mouth breathing gets picked up on the microphones. "Come on, aren't you going to share?" I tease, breaking the silence, but I'm almost breathless on the inside. I want to bring a tribute home, not fail like the rest of them!

"So hasty, Miss Eade! Head Gamemaker Scelestiber has promised us the most gruesome Games yet, and- as I got the inside scoop- we're going to see a weapon that has never been experimented with in the arena before!"

"What does that mean, some new type of mutt?" Inez might have spoken for all five of us, desperate for spoilers that may help our tributes.

"Oh, something much more sinister than that… something much more powerful and hard to escape." He's toying with us like cats do with mice. But I can take information from this. I'll tell my tribute that they need to be on especially careful watch and never let their guard down. There's something out there that has been made to attack and destroy… but if there is going to be a Victor, there will be a way around it.

"What of the arena? Its design?" Newt's interested in the mechanics of it all, no surprise there.

"I've heard rumors that we'll be getting some fresh air this time around," he lets drop. I suck in my breath- outdoor arena! Perfect! "And…" he glances at his watch, "and that's all the time we have today! Tune in tomorrow to see the selection of our tributes for the Twentieth Annual Hunger Games!"

"And may the odds be ever in their favor," I mutter under my breath as the cameras shut off one by one and the Capitol anthem blasts through the speakers.

I'm not fooling myself. The odds are never in anyone's favor except the Capitol's. Anyone who believes otherwise is either lying through their teeth or completely stupid.

But as Victors we can cheat. I can cheat the Capitol like I've cheated death. Neither like to be beaten.

Someday they'll both come calling at my door, but until then I will be a Victor in more ways than one.

* * *

**GUESS WHO'S BACK!  
**

**I've returned to write ONE MORE SYOT, and I've skipped the 19th in favor of the 20th because of certain events of the 19th that were described in my previous stories. So here we are, for the 20th Hunger Games, and 24 tributes waiting to be chosen!**

**Note: You do not have to read the 17th or the 18th Games to understand this story; there will be references made but it'll be fine. :) Of course, nothing is stopping you from going back and reading those!**

**Also, there is a link to a VICTOR'S BLOG for the ChaosVerse on my profile. If you look at it, feel free to answer these questions in your reviews!**

_**What did you think of the Victor's blog? Do you have any favorites from there, or from this chapter? Are there any that you would particularly like to see during this story?**_

**Rules for submission and the form for tributes are on my profile. Here's how things will go:**

**I will have OPEN SUBMISSIONS. There are absolutely NO RESERVATIONS. I will be having two, possibly three rounds of acceptance. The first round will happen by the end of this week- January 26th, up to a third of the spots will be closed. The second round will happen the week after that, February 2nd, and hopefully all tributes will be in my then. If I need more, I will extend submissions for a third round of acceptance.**

**It is in your best interests to get tributes in as soon as possible, although this is in no way first-come first-serve. I will only accept the best, and I know what a good character looks like.**

**There will be an up-to-date list of submissions on my profile to let you know how many I have received.**

**After all spots are closed, I will message you to let you know if you are accepted or declined, and my reasoning behind the decision. A prologue part two will be published with the complete tribute list, along with a BLOG for visual aid. At that time I will announce my structure for Reaping and Capitol chapters. _Unlike my previous stories I will not be having 12 reaping chapters!_**

**Submissions are at this time OPEN. Let the Games begin!**


	2. Chapter 2: Tribute List Included

**LEONOR EADE: DISTRICT NINE VICTOR OF THE 19****th**** HUNGER GAMES**

I practically rip off the dress I was forced into for the interview, favoring silky pajamas over the corseted travesty. Avia enters my room just as I flop down on the bed. "Great, what is it now? I want to sleep!" I complain, already mourning the loss of whatever sleep schedule I had. Avia's great, but she never stops talking once she gets started.

"They kept talking about a different weapon to use against the tributes," she begins, running a hand through her unruly blonde hair.

"Of course, we all noticed that. They'll hint at something that none of them can defeat, and then leave us all hanging. Tension. It's what the Capitol does right before the Games, isn't it?" I roll over and face the wall, trying to get Avia to take the hint and leave.

"Look, Leonor, don't let that snark get the best of you right now. We might be able to find something out tonight," she whispers.

"Tonight? I'm exhausted! What are you even talking about, 'find something out', we leave at like four in the morning to get back to Nine in time for the reapings. We're not going anywhere at this hour!" I get a sharp glance and shrink back meekly, making a mental note to myself that I should whisper from now on as well.

"The other Victors are on edge now. You've never done this, okay? You've never mentored. You don't know how badly we want our tributes to come home- I've got you now, luckily, but any chance we have, we need to take it."

"They already announced that whatever they're planning isn't going to be beatable."

"That doesn't matter. There's something we can do to prepare, we need to do it."

"You want to cheat?" That's good old Avia. Maybe losing sleep won't be so bad if it's for something I'm totally in agreement with. Like this. Find a loophole, beat them at their own game. I roll over and prop my elbows up, curiosity levels skyrocketing.

"If it keeps District Nine alive, yes."

"So is it just us in on this? Are we the only ones planning to 'find something out'- by the way, you obviously have a plan and I want to know what it is before I do anything stupider than win the Games."

"Don't make me regret mentoring you to Victory, Leo, that sass is going to backfire on you whether I snap or the Capitol decides you've gone too far." She sighs. "Anyway, of course we're not the only ones, most of the Victors want to try something. Luckily only a few of them have the guts to go through with any sort of plan. Agate and Holland want one of us to meet them tonight."

"Meet them? To do what, talk about it? Is this like, Victors Anonymous?"

Avia glares at me. "I'm trying to get you to do something. They want one of us, but Holland and I don't get along. That friction could ruin it. You should go."

"What's 'it'?" I ask, pointedly ignoring the fact that I've been forced onto this spy squad or whatever.

"Ruin the plan to," she lowers her voice to the faintest whisper, "try and discover the arena designs. Just that knowledge can help us prepare the tributes for what's coming. That can save their lives."

I nod. "Will I still get sleep?"

Avia rolls her eyes. "If you get back fast enough, but with your innate desire to mouth off to everyone you meet, I doubt that. Agate will spend the whole time with her hand over your mouth."

I smirk and roll off the bed to collect my shoes. "I might be the first to bring back a Victor on my first year of mentoring, how about that?"

Avia's eyes seem to glaze over for a moment. "That would change a lot of things for you, hon. A lot of things." She shakes herself out of whatever funk just came over her and focuses back on me. "Make sure to put some gloves or something in your pocket, and take a hat."

"Jeez, it's not that cold out. It's summer, _Mom._"

"Just in case. No incriminating evidence, right?" Again, she lowers her voice until I have to strain to hear it. "Victors sneak out all the time, for various reasons, but for the most part we can move freely in the city. They watch these tapes, but if they see you leaving they'll assume you're going to get drunk, or high, or laid, or something else that the tabloids would love to find out about."

I nod and, when Avia smiles back, I exit the room quickly, trying not to rush to the elevator. The lobby of the Victors' apartments, that's where Agate and Holland will be.

Awkward, I've never met Holland before. I've only heard stories, and of those there are plenty. As the elevator hurtles down to the ground floor, I can't help but grin at one story I've been told where the girl from Seven decided to sing an old ballad at one of her interviews rather than answer questions- she totally drowned out Octavius's questioning (and eventually, his laughter as well).

The elevator _dings _quietly and I step out into the lobby, glancing around for any other Victors. There! Right away, I spot Holland's give-away ginger hair, and then I notice tall Agate standing next to her.

I hurry over to the two women, self-consciously adjusting the pajamas I'm still wearing.

"We've got to get going as fast as possible," Agate hisses as soon as I meander to a stop beside her, "I want a tribute coming home this year."

I narrow my eyes at the words. That's what we all want, but she's the one already acting like this little espionage escapade will only benefit her. But Avia would kill me if I started a catfight and lost the chance to save a Niner's life.

"We're off then?" Holland says, grinning eagerly and bouncing off towards the door. The woman is almost thirty and yet she acts younger than me… is she crazy? Agate, poised and focused, follows after, stalking out the door like a cat. Then me, only eighteen, following behind helplessly. I hate it.

Agate takes the lead while we're on the nighttime streets, and I can be grateful for that. I'm still not used to the Capitol, I'd be lost in an instant especially in the dark, but Agate's been visiting these streets for over a decade. Holland half-walks, half-skips beside me. I can definitely see why Avia doesn't get along with her; the aura of carelessness and humor radiating off Holland is already starting to get to me.

"Why did you choose to come along?" I ask innocently, wondering why the girl- she acts like a girl, not a woman, even though she's close to twice my age- cared enough about the arena plans to do this.

"Linden's hands started shaking again, she couldn't make it but she wanted to- I came for a friend," she replies conversationally. I shut up, carefully weaving between already-hammered Capitol citizens and keeping my face turned away from them as best as I can.

"Hush, both of you, and follow me. Carefully," Agate snaps, stopping in front of a gilded building- Gamemaker Central. The lights in the lobby are turned off, the heavy brass doors padlocked shut.

"There had better be a back entrance or that lock had better be fake," I sigh. Agate shoots me a glance.

"There's a back entrance, Linden knows!" Holland chirps.

"That's where we're going. There's a lock on that door as well, but I can do something about _that_ one," the District Two woman says confidently. She shepherds Holland and me around the side of the building to a small, nondescript door with no showy locks, only a keycard pad. Agate pulls out a card and swipes it triumphantly.

"How you manage that?" I scoff. I can't believe she pulled it off that easily. What did she need us for if not to get inside or watch her back on the streets? We're just following her around.

Agate grimaces like she's remembering something awful. "Bribery. Let's put it that way."

We slip through the door and find ourselves in a short hallway, no lights on whatsoever and no way to help ourselves until Holland miraculously pulls out a tiny flashlight. Am I the only one who came totally unprepared? I'm in my pajamas.

I turn to ask Agate what I should do here, just to find that she's pulled a six-inch blade from her boot. Maybe I shouldn't say anything, it'll just make me look even less impressive.

"The Head Gamemaker's office will be our best bet, we'll head there first. Leonor, keep watch behind us, there are always guards here."

I fall back a few paces, glancing behind us every couple seconds to fulfill my obligation. Agate takes us up several flights of stairs. Run up ten steps, a few seconds' break. Another flight, another tiny rest. Another, and another. How far up is the Head Gamemaker's office?

"Oof!" I glance behind us just as Holland throws her arm out to stop me. I run straight into her as a result, and Agate snarls at both of us.

"Here's our floor. Silently now, you hear?"

I nod reluctantly. We get the point, quietness has been emphasized my whole night.

Agate slowly opens the door out of the stairwell, peering into the new hallway. It's a few moments before the three of us enter the corridor, stepping cautiously. It still feels like each footstep echoes abnormally loudly.

"Which door is i-" I begin, but a bright beam of light in my face cuts me off effectively.

"Halt! You are under arrest for armed breaking and entering!"

Agate swears loudly and drops her knife with a clatter, but it's far too late. Four Peacekeepers emerge from the doorways and surround us.

So much for cheating, then.

* * *

**Tribute List**

**District One Female: **Sintra Astolle (18)

**District One Male: **Thierry Levesque (18)

**District Two Female: **Ita Brecchia (17)

**District Two Male: **Griffin Ainsworth (18)

**District Three Female: **Aelie Forslund (15)

**District Three Male: **Odrey Hume (14)

**District Four Female: **Viera Kinley (18)

**District Four Male: **Tiernan Costello (16)

**District Five Female: **Romany Argent (18)

**District Five Male: **Tycho Brunell (16)

**District Six Female: **Trista Minniver (15)

**District Six Male: **Calisto Milas (17)

**District Seven Female: **Braelin Spalding (16)

**District Seven Male: **Maxim Harth (15)

**District Eight Female: **Kendal Baize (18)

**District Eight Male: **Kilim Moquette (13)

**District Nine Female: **Geneva Torres (17)

**District Nine Male: **Arcas Kodo (14)

**District Ten Female: **Nairi Grey (14)

**District Ten Male: **Korry Falders (16)

**District Eleven Female: **Ardith Renville (17)

**District Eleven Male: **Terran Provost (17)

**District Twelve Female:** Sorrel Keating (18)

**District Twelve Male: **Oiyana Vir (17)

* * *

**First of all, there's a blog! the BlogSpot title is 'theyallfalldown20'  
****Link will also be found on my profile :D That should be easier!**

**Questions!**

_**What did you think of the tribute from the blog? First impressions, favorites, anything?**_

_**What did you think of this prologue part 2?**_

**Here's the way reapings will work: Six chapters, two districts each, every tribute gets a POV. It'll get us to the Capitol faster while still introducing all the characters before they are forced into the life of a tribute. :) Districts portrayed in each chapter will be chosen randomly!**

**All right, don't start a review war this early. This is a reply to the anon reviewers (and by the way it would be more productive if you would have PMed me instead of reviewing like this. It's actually pretty hurtful): **

**Look, I have my reasons for doing things the way I do. Why did I let tribute submissions continue so long? Well, originally I didn't expect to have so many submissions, so I wanted to give whoever actually wanted to submit a good chance to think out their character and send them in without as much deadline pressure. I knew of some people who had exams during the submission period, and I didn't want them to stress about testing and creating characters, so I gave them extra time to submit. February 2nd was the ORIGINAL date I decided to close submissions, and I wasn't going to shut out anyone who was holding off/had been busy by closing early, that would have been unfair to them. And just FYI, two of the tributes I accepted came in on the last day. **

**Favoritism? You're accusing me of favoritism? Hm, let's see- of the people linked on my profile, I think seven have tributes here. (That's less than a third of the characters.) There were NO reserved spots. The people who were accepted all made detailed, promising tributes that I saw potential in. There were some cuts I made that were painful for me to make, I couldn't take all the characters I liked. I tried my hardest to avoid bias. And if I haven't already, I will be PMing you soon (although I don't know who you all are specifically) to explain why I didn't accept your tribute(s).**

**Why did I accept in stages? In previous stories, I DID accept characters as they came in. That caused a lot of confusion. Spots were constantly closing, people didn't know what was happening. However, I don't have the ability to accept in one round. Choosing 24 tributes at once means trying to decide plotlines, possibilities, and looking at interactions all at once and that's overwhelming. By accepting in rounds, I could build off the first group and figure out plotlines and development in smaller, more manageable increments.**

**And no, I would not be done with the reapings by now. I might have written one or two districts' worth.**

**My motives were for the good of the story, not for attention. Thank you.**


	3. Reapings: D4 & D7

**I've got to apologize for the late first reapings, I wanted to figure out POVs and some initial plotlines, and then I was sick for a bit, but here you go! Districts Four (with Viera Kinley from jakey121 and Tiernan Costello from DA Member Hogwarts) and Seven (with Maxim Harth from Foxface5 and Braelin Spalding from District11-Olive). **

**I'm just getting back into the swing of things (again), so enjoy my first reaping chapter in like, a year!**

* * *

**DISTRICT FOUR FEMALE: VIERA KINLEY**

"Mom, Dad, I'm headed down to the Justice Building to try and get a tolerable spot for the Reaping," I announce as I stride through our modest kitchen, past both my parents who sit at the worn table. My mother gives me a warning look as I approach the door.

"Did you eat any breakfast?" She stands up and gently blocks my path

I sigh unhappily. "No, not today. Please, Mom, I'm anxious, and I have good reason to be. Just let me go today, okay?" I know it'll work- she encouraged me to train for years and has always said how proud she would be if I won.

She gives me a conflicted smile. "Still planning on volunteering, dear?" I nod proudly in response. "All right, I can see where you're coming from, but I still wish you'd take something. It's hot out today, don't want you getting faint in that crowded town square!" She gives me a swift kiss on the cheek before sitting back down. I turn back towards the door, but I don't get four steps ahead before my father raises his voice.

"Viera, dear." He beckons me over with a wave of his hand. I pivot on my heel and give him a quick hug before finally managing to exit our house. I'll see him after I volunteer as well, we can say goodbye then. Hopefully it won't be the last time we speak- I'm well trained but who knows who I could be facing in the arena?

As I stride out into the street, the breeze tousles my straight blonde hair and the salty tinge in the air from the ocean refreshes me. I turn the corner and smooth my hair back into place- appearance may not be my greatest issue, but today of all days, everything has to be perfect. I've even put on one of my mother's best summer dresses to look my best. Dresses aren't the best thing to run in, though, I should have considered that. Should I go back and change? I don't want to be outrun by some unprepared upstart at the last second! I should go back.

The dress doesn't matter, calm down, Viera. It's the shoes, it's all in the shoes I'm wearing, and my training shoes are sleek enough to not look stupid with the pale purple dress. I'll be fine. I lift my chin and head towards the Justice Building. It's time to get this over with and move forward in life. I can't let silly things like clothes mess up my morning, level-headedness is an absolute requirement today.

"Hey, Viera!" My head snaps to the side almost automatically, and I see two boys standing at the corner of the street a few meters away.

"Good morning," I greet them civilly. Do I even know them? They're sort of familiar, they probably train at the same time as me occasionally.

"I don't think I've ever seen you all dolled up like that," one of them smirks as he looks me up and down. I repress a shudder at his behavior. Maintain the regality, stay calm, stay calm. "Do you expect boys to dress as well as you if they want a chance?"

I can't hold back a grimace. "After that comment I don't expect much out of you at all."

He steps back, dumbfounded, but I'm not through with their immaturity yet. His friend saunters forward. "Sorry about him, Viera, he's pretty much an idiot. Do you want to maybe spend a bit of time with me after the Reaping?" Well, at least he's direct and mature about it. Possibly worth trying. "You dress well, but of course the real question is, do you undre-"

"Get lost." I roll my eyes and keep walking. No one gets the fact that maturity is what matters. Stupid pickup lines or half-disguised sex jokes won't get you anywhere except homeless. If you don't take life seriously you're asking to be left behind.

I hear the throng of people before I see them, and it's only a short jog to join them. The Justice Building is already swarming with Peacekeepers and the square before it is milling with anxious teenagers. Some of the twelve and thirteen year olds have red-rimmed eyes or snotty noses like they've already cried about it today. Grow up, there are volunteers. Or even better, train like us so you don't have to be so scared for your lives. That's the whole reason One, Two, and Four are so far ahead of the others- we rejected fear much faster than the others and started training.

I sign in quickly, barely paying attention to the Peacekeeper man who pricks my finger. I'm already looking for people in my age group to stand with, and there are only a few of those whom I can tolerate. None of the others have grown up yet. We're eighteen, shouldn't it be more common to act your age by now?

I see Elin near the center of our section and quickly move over to her. It's difficult to resist the urge to lift my skirt a little higher and run, but modesty prevails. Can't have anyone get the idea that I'm any less poised and educated as I show normally.

"Elin!"

She whirls around, pieces of her short blonde hair whipping into her gleeful eyes. "Viera!" A grin lights up her face and she squeezes me in a tight hug.

"Okay, okay, we're good, let me go!" I say, laughing through my wheezes.

"Today's the day then?" she says breathlessly, "Are you ready? Do your parents know?"

"Yeah, I'm ready," I reply, motioning down to my shoes, "and my parents have known for a long time now, calm down!"

"This is so tense, I've trained long-range with you for years and now you're going to bigger places! I never dreamed at first, not when I met you that one time."

My smile falters momentarily at the memory of the time Elin first talked to me, when she stood up against a more popular girl picking on me for not wanting to train _all _the time. She's dead now- that was Camilla Thyra, she's been dead for three years now. Sigh. Just because my parents didn't force me into all the rigorous training doesn't mean I didn't _want _to do it- look, here I am, the best prospective Victor we have!

Our escort, Hortia, steps up to the stage. "At last," I hiss to Elin, "she's gotten some color variation in those hideous mauve tattoos."

"Yeah, they're still hard on the eyes though. Look at that magenta on her right arm!" We continue with the snide comments all through the Treaty of Treason, but on my part it's more to relieve stress than to make fun of Hortia.

"And first, to the girls!" She finally cries. A lump swells in my throat momentarily. I wanted to wait until she asked for volunteers, but I can't under all this self-imposed pressure. I don't even hear the name called out, I'm too busy rehearsing the words in my head.

"I volunteer as tribute!"

**DISTRICT FOUR MALE: TIERNAN COSTELLO**

"I heard a buncha guys were plannin' to volunteer this year!" One of the two illiterates standing right in front of me blurts out to his equally moronic friend.

"They gotta! Four hasn't gotten a good Victor in ages, we need somebody to show 'em how it's done!"

Their uneducated dialogue grates on my ears in the same manner of seagulls' cries. I can't help but lean forward and glare at both of their profiles- one has the ugliest squashed nose, ugh- and then open my own mouth. "Both of you sound completely stupid, the world would be a better place if you never spoke again."

One of them backs away and keeps his head down, but the other whirls around aggressively. "What did you just call me?"

"Stupid. Don't you have ears?"

He grits his teeth and glares at me, brandishing a fist. "What are you planning to do with that, break your knuckles on my chest?"

"You're not that strong. You're only in the sixteen-year-old section!"

"Yeah, but I've trained for years and years. I don't think you could handle this. Neither could the older ones here, actually." I raise my chin.

He laughs bitterly. "Oh look, another all self-important rich boy. You think you're so great? Volunteer. We'd be just fine if you died, you know. The world would be better off without you."

When I do volunteer, this imbecile had better not think he was the inspiration behind my act. He'd never get that sort of credit. Besides, I've had my mind made up ever since I heard my mother talking to my trainer about me and the man said I'd never succeed. I'll show them, they don't know me. The only one who would have supported me was Father. He was the only one who ever knew me. I may only be sixteen, but what does that matter? This is my year and no one is going to take that away from me. I'm better than all of them!

"Speechless, are you, Mr. Know-it-all?" Crap, I've been silent too long against this lower-class boy's retorts.

"Not speechless, just trying to decide if it was worth my time to rise to your pitiful taunts. You're the same as my mother, always babbling about how I should have to listen to you. I'll give you the same advice I give her- learn your place and stay there!"

He leers at me for a moment and I can see the gears in his head turning, looking for a good comeback, but the Capitol escort steps on stage before he can come up with a response worth even his meager time.

"Welcome, welcome, District Four! Such a lovely day for the annual Reaping Ceremony!"

Lovely day, and she's spoiling it with her fifty shades of purple in tattoos. They swirl all over her chunky body in dizzying spirals… utterly disgusting. I try and keep down my nausea during her bouncy rendition of the Treaty of Treason, but my interest in the onstage events perks back up when she approaches the girls' Reaping Bowl. Save the best for last, I suppose. Girls never show as much promise in the Reapings.

"Shoalle Hensen!"

The girl doesn't even step forward before another voice rings out. "I volunteer as tribute!" It's an eighteen-year-old, long blond hair and dress streaming behind her as she dashes up to the stage. She's pretty enough, but does she have skills? Somehow, I doubt it. Hortia seems impressed as the girl gives her name- Viera Kinley. Hmph.

"And now for the boys!" I try to imperceptibly raise my heels and prepare myself for the rush to come. "Kysander Ivory!"

There's a collective pause from the eighteen-year-olds, half of the seventeens, and me, and the Kysander boy even takes a tentative step from the fifteen-year-old area before the first volunteer speaks up.

They're not taking my year. While they all holler their intent to volunteer before taking a single step- slaves to procedure, every last one- I run and shout at the same time, barreling past many an angry or confused young man. The disappointment on their faces makes me smile. I can watch them hate me as I stand onstage…

"Oof!" Someone trips me and I go sprawling on the cobblestones. The eighteens start surging forward but I'm not about to let them stop me. About half go for the stairs at the side, but the others have the same idea as me and swarm right up the front of the stage. I'm right there with them, and we're fighting like dogs. Fists collide with my sides and face, one cracking against my jaw and making my head reel. I land a good one myself, in the gut of a burly redhead. "Get off my stage!" I holler, fighting the last few steps to the proffered microphone.

Surrounded by clashing, groaning, angry teenage boys, I smirk out at the cameras and the rest of the district.

"I'm Tiernan Costello, age 16, and I'm doing this for three people- me, myself, and I."

I hand back the microphone to Hortia and turn to shake hands with Viera. She's already scowling at me- if that means she's afraid or discouraged, good. If I've just made my first enemy somehow- she's got no reason to dislike me, really, she's probably just a spoiled brat- then it'll be the worse for her.

I always win. And the others always lose.

**DISTRICT SEVEN MALE: MAXIM HARTH**

The clouds cover the sky, an unbroken blanket of melancholy and mist. I gaze up at the dark gray sky with my chin propped up on my hands on the windowsill. It's one of the most peaceful places in my whole house. Too bad I can't stand weather like this, the dreariness affects everyone's mood and sours the day more than the events already will.

Reaping day. This is my halfway mark.

I want to be afraid about it, but what would everyone else think about that? I'm supposed to be tough like my brothers, like all the guys, I can't go into hysterics however relieving it would be.

It's so much worse when there's real stress.

"Maxim, you ready? We've got to head out early today, put on a good appearance for the district!" That would be Ashton. I tear myself away from the window- and immediately hit my forehead on the edge of my bed. After a bit of groaning and stumbling blindly around my room, I bound across the house towards the sound of his voice, and he tousles my hair when I skid to a stop beside him.

"Good to see ya, bro. Tyrion's already pounded it into my head that I need to stick with you today, so let's head out."

"Where's he? It's only his first year out, and he's already so avoidant?"

"Can't show his face, not when there's a group of troublemakers from the east side looking for him. That girl, Talia, she's really mad at him again."

I wince. Tyrion's gotten into enough of a mess with the Girl Queen of the slums already, someone's going to get hurt soon if he has another run-in with her. "But on Reaping Day? None of the others would try something today, would they?" Ashton just shrugs and opens the door for me.

I reluctantly traipse outside into the dreary weather, Ashton sauntering out ahead of me as soon as he's closed the door behind him. It's a quiet walk through our shambly little neighborhood, most of the houses already empty for the Reaping or the inhabitants disliking my two brothers… and by conjunction, me. I haven't been in half as many fights as Ashton, let alone Tyrion. I don't even want to follow in their footsteps.

We're nearing the town square when Ashton hollers out suddenly to a group of older teens. "Aislyn, Chetta, Walker, Rollins!" They turn around and cheer back to him in greeting, and then he's off, running towards them like he never was supposed to stay with me. I jog after him, staying off to the side. They're all seventeen or up, I'm the baby here. Like I always am.

Ashton wraps his arm around one of the girl's waist and she giggles, the two boys both give him some weird sort of handshake. "I see you've got the little brother with you again," one of them says in a low voice. I'm obviously meant to hear it, though, and it stings.

"Ah, he's got to man up soon, might as well let him near us." Well, that stings even more.

"Ashton, can I just go?"

He doesn't even give a sign that he's heard me.

What else is there to do? Keeping my face stoic, I walk away and head towards the security checkpoints. The Peacekeepers scrutinize me with a blank face and take a drop of blood. I wince but it's over fast enough. There's been worse.

"Maxim!"

The one person who ever wants to talk to me and not one of my brothers or parents. Laurel. I spin around happily, grinning as the girl almost tackles me in a hug. I get a faceful of her long dark hair but even that isn't worse than the weather.

"You're here away from both your brothers?" She gives me a curious look to go along with the question.

"Ashton ditched me for some of his friends."

She purses her lips. "They shouldn't do that. You're your own person, they need to recognize that."

"That doesn't matter to their lives, though. It only matters to you."

"And you, come on! Take some independence!"

"I'll only take what I can afford, Laurel!" Our voices have raised enough to garner some attention from nearby teens. I quiet down, and Laurel hugs me again.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you upset," she apologizes needlessly. She has good points… she just doesn't live with Tyrion and Ashton.

"It's fine, I'm fine, we're good." I smile as convincingly as I can. I don't want to make Laurel upset, she's basically the only person around whom I can have emotions.

She's obviously not swayed, but she lets it drop. "Fine, so how are you?" Throughout our conversation, I keep glancing back to the check-in stations for Ashton and his friends.

"Okay, Maxim, we should probably go to our separate sections. See you after, okay?"

"If I can get to you without Ashton teasing me about not being man enough, then sure. Bye, Laurel." Wistfully, I watch her walk over to the girls' section. I sigh and trudge to the other fifteen year old boys, finding a safe place on the edge of the crowd and hoping that Ashton makes it in before the Treaty of Treason starts. As Thunder, our explosive escort, begins to bombard our ears with the Treaty, I grown inwardly. He's probably nowhere around.

"Psst… Maxim! Max!" I look around reflexively at the sound of my name, catching a glimpse of Ashton in the midst of his own age group. Giving him a short nod, I try to ignore him and pay attention to Thunder, but he keeps trying to catch my attention for some unfathomable reason, since he pretended I didn't exist just half an hour ago, but whatever.

"AND NOW FOR THE GIRLS!" Thunder shouts, snatching a slip out of the crystal bowl. "BRAELIN SPALDING!"

A girl with curly blonde hair steps up, visibly shaking and obviously terrified out of her mind. By the time she forces herself up to the stage, she's fully sobbing. Of course she is, she's just been chosen for the Games! I'd probably feel like that if I were chosen… but I couldn't show it. That would be improper.

"AND THE BOYS- MAXIM HARTH!"

The irony is so overwhelming I can't find it in me to laugh. Everyone starts to turn and look for the poor sap who's going to die now, and I want to curl up and die.

One step forward, and they're all _looking _at me. I'm so vulnerable, with so much more attention than I've ever wanted… it makes me mad. I want to scream and cry and sob like the girl, but I push it down and let the anger fuel me instead. It's a long walk to the platform, long and terrifying.

I stand in front of my district as they all watch me, and all of us, with the exception of Braelin, seem totally emotionless.

I want to cry.

**DISTRICT SEVEN FEMALE: BRAELIN SPALDING**

It's almost hard to look at Maxim through my tears, but he's so angry and there are tears beginning to build up behind his glasses, but as he turns towards me he blinks them away furiously. I wish I was strong enough, brave enough to do the same. They just keep flowing down my cheeks and I can't even find the strength to be ashamed.

I hold out a tentative hand for him to shake. He hesitates, biting his lip before grabbing it and squeezing briefly. He's scowling now that he doesn't have to face the cameras. Thunder begins the ending spiel behind us, and Maxim takes the opportunity to steal a few words. "This is crap. Total crap."

I can hardly nod, let alone speak. Let him get angry as he will, don't interfere. I can't do anything to make it better; I'm in shock myself.

Thunder grabs us each by a shoulder and spins us around, guiding the newest pair of tributes into the Justice Building. Maxim stiffens under his hand, but I just go along with it. My angry fellow citizen is going to get us both in trouble, while I can hardly shuffle along under my own power.

I'm deposited in an artfully decorated visiting room, and the only thought that comes to my mind is that _these are the rooms where the funerals of the rich take place_ and the only reason it's ironic to me right now is because I'm not rich.

"Visitors will arrive shortly, please wait," a lady Peacekeeper instructs me from the doors. I blankly watch her leave the room. I raise a shaky hand to my face to wipe the wetness from beneath my eyes, and I have hardly the effort to complete that task. Who knew it was possible to be so scared? I didn't. It's an all-consuming pit of black terror and an awful feeling of being lost and never found.

I hope Jude walks through that door. He's the only one I can trust right now to make things better, I know it.

The door creaks; my heart stops. But my mom and dad walk through instead, my brother not with them. Soon, I tell myself, he'll be here soon.

"Braelin!" Mom cries, flying across the room and dragging me down on the squashy couch beside her. "Braelin, baby, I-" she breaks off, unable to say any more. Sounds a little familiar, actually, but I just dissolve into sobs again and bury my face in her shoulder. Soon I feel Dad on my other side, putting his arms around both of us protectively.

I haven't seen them so in agreement on something in my whole life. I almost feel selfish that it's this situation that's brought them together. I'm not worth this much, they still have Jude, this fuss isn't necessary. But it's nice, there's no denying that.

"Braelin, we're shell shocked. That this could have happened to our baby girl…" Even Dad can't say more than that, and I'm content to be cuddled there for another minute or two, finding solace in their arms like I haven't felt since my toddler days. I can concentrate on slowing my breathing, but I end up with the hiccups from crying so much already.

Why can't I feel something other than numb fear? Why can't I feel brave at all? Or even upset, like Maxim?

I want privacy now, but I can't possibly tell that to Mom and Dad. I can't ask them to leave me alone when it's probably the… the… I have to admit it to myself sometime or other, the last time they'll ever see me alive. Or rather, the last time I'll ever see them since they'll be watching me for the next week.

I take a deep breath, knowing that their time must be about up, and try and give each of them the tightest hug I can manage. Dad smiles weakly, but Mom only manages a watery sob and a muffled "I love you."

"I love you too!" I squeak, my voice shrilling on the last word. They're gone, ushered out by the Peacekeepers, and all of a sudden I regret wanting privacy. I want my family!

I don't even make it off the couch before the door is flung open, revealing the one visitor I really needed to see- my brother Jude. He runs at me and sweeps me off the couch in what could have been a bone-crushing hug. But he's too gentle, too careful to hurt me even on accident.

"Brae, you're going to be all right, okay? Stop crying. For me, please?" It's reminiscent of the times he comforted me when our parents were arguing in the other room. Their hushed tones didn't even make it any easier to bear, but Jude did. He's always able to do that.

"Jude, how am I going to manage?" I ask in a wavery voice, squeaking and sniffling and hiccupping and trying to hold it together.

"Braelin, you're quiet but you've managed in a hard life all these years. You can do it, I promise. You're my sister. You have to."

"I don't want to change, though! I've seen it every year! No matter what you do in there, you end up dead. You come out empty whether it's on your own feet or in a pine box!" All the fears that my parents wouldn't hear come spilling out to Jude.

"Braelin, don't think about that. You can't let that get to you. Those thoughts are dangerous."

My voice is a whisper. "But what if that's all true?"

"Make your own version, then. Don't let it change you. That's the way you've gone through life for years now, being your own little anchor of quiet determination and letting the people around you ebb and flow as they please." Is that how Jude really sees me? I just do what others tell me to, try to avoid conflict. How can I avoid conflict in a match to the death?

"It's so hard…"

"I know, sis, I know. It's gonna be hard. But our lives have been hard and you've lived that for sixteen years, right?" He comfortingly puts his hands on my shoulders. "You're going to have to beat your own path, though."

"Jude, I can't, I'm hopeless at doing things for me and me alone!"

"You'll have to. And you can do it, right? I know you can."

I can believe what my brother says, right? Who can I trust if not him? I bite my lip. "I'll do it, Jude. For us."

He smiles softly and then reaches into the back pocket of his pants. "A token?" I nod, and he hands me one of his giant work gloves.

"It's all I've got, but-"

I hug him tight. "That'll do, Jude."

* * *

**The first four tributes! XD Four more next chapter, ooo, what districts will they be? I should have a better schedule from now on, by the way :)**

**GeorgeMellark6 has asked for me to announce that they have an open SYOT, if anyone would like to submit!**

**Questions:**

_**What do you think of these two districts? These four tributes?**_

_**Which of these four is your favorite?**_

**And, of course, simply tell me what you thought!**


	4. Reapings: D8 & D11

**Welcome, meet District Eight (with Kendal Baize from Call Me Fin and Kilim Moquette from Nrrrd-Grrrl-Meg) and District Eleven (with Ardith Renville from Sunlight Comes Creeping In and Terran Provost from JabberjayHeart). Enjoy, and please R&R!**

* * *

**DISTRICT EIGHT MALE: KILIM MOQUETTE**

"Mother!" I knock quietly on her study door. I'm scared. I shouldn't want my mom right now, I'm thirteen and that's far too old for crying for mom, but sometimes we all just revert to little kids for a minute or two. "Mother, it's Kilim, please!"

"I'm busy, go bother your Uncle Mohir or something!" I bite my lip at her muffled response and pluck at the edge of my suit's vest.

"It's my second reaping, won't you come talk to me today?" My stomach has been flipping around and twisting all over itself this morning, and I don't want to be alone.

"I have designs to finish, Kilim, I can't deal with you at the moment."

"Can't you finish them later?"

She sighs loud enough for me to hear through the heavy wooden door. "Just go."

I hang my head and shuffle away from the study room, leaving my mother in peace to finish her newest clothing sketches. As soon as I get out of earshot, I screech, collapsing into an armchair and pounding on the back of it with my fists. She never even looks me in the face anymore! She's always working! How can she have that much work? She never talks to me, never hugs me, never loves me. She's my mother, aren't mothers supposed to love their kids? I want her to love me.

The only things I get from her are toys, most of which I'm too old for, and the best clothes. Not even a smile… I just want my mother to smile at me for once.

"Kilim, is that you? Kilim?" A gruff adult voice says. I snap my mouth shut and stop my tantrum immediately, still sniffling. If there's anyone I don't want to cry in front of, it's Uncle Mohir. I don't want him to see me so babyish.

"Uncle?" I repeat the word slowly until he steps into the living room, hands in the pockets of his suit. He looks uncomfortable.

"I heard you wailing on about something, what's wrong?" Uncle Mohir pulls up a footstool and sits in front of me, coming down to my eye level. I avert my gaze, ashamed to have been caught so easily.

"Mother won't talk to me. It's the Reaping, I just want her to say something."

"Chambrey's busy, you know that." He tries to comfort me but he can't. I won't be comforted right now.

"Too busy to even look at me? All she said was go away!" I whine to him.

He bites his lip. "Don't worry about her. I'm here, okay sport? Just the guys, and that works, right? You can talk to me all you want, it's important for you to let your voice be heard." Just the guys. That makes me feel so much older than my mother's frequent gifts of toys do. Just the guys. I like it.

"But you're just my uncle, not my mother. And she always says children are to be seen and-"

"Believe me, I know what she says, we were both told the same thing for our whole childhoods. Don't subscribe to it, opinions don't need to be bottled up in your head."

I'm skeptical. Mother says… but I like the idea. I like being able to say what I think.

"I think you should dry your eyes and straighten that suit. Your friend will be here any minute and you want to look your best, don't you?" Uncle Mohir ruffles my hair and I glare at him for a moment, but I can't stay angry with the only honest person I know for very long.

I force myself out of the armchair, tiptoe past Mother's study, and stand in front of the door of our house for a few minutes, composing myself. Mother will talk to me later, maybe she'll finish early and I can make her tell me a story or let me see her designs. Anything.

The doorbell chimes and I try not to launch myself forward. Challis stands on the other side of the door, grinning smugly in her new dress- a familiar design, I notice.

"That dress makes you look fat."

She gasps in anger, but I see that she sucks in her soft stomach as she does so. "Kilim, you're so mean to me!"

"I tell the truth, that's all," I retort. Challis storms into the house, nose in the air.

"Well, I think it's pretty, and my father bought it for me, and you don't matter!"

"Yes I do, you came to my house because I matter. I matter to you." Just saying those words makes me puff up in pride. Footsteps behind me alert us to the presence of Uncle Mohir.

"Good morning, Challis," he greets my companion.

"Good morning, Mr. Moquette!" she pipes up in reply, smiling at him. I give my uncle a sullen look. He's gone and made her feel more loved than I do, with three words.

"Do you want me to walk the two of you down to the square? I don't feel like doing any of the work I'm supposed to."

I try to stand up as tall as I can. "I'm plenty old enough now, Uncle Mohir, I'll go alone. With Challis, I mean. I know how it works, I remember from last year." And even last year hardly any of the boys came with their parents… or uncles. I don't want to seem juvenile, I want them to respect me. I mean, my family has a reputation, why shouldn't I?

"Good man, Kilim. Guess I'll have to stay here. Challis, you good with going alone?"

She nods sweetly. See? I can be mature. I don't need my mother for everything… although having her around would be nice.

"Do we have to go yet, is it time?"

Uncle Mohir nods. "Challis got here just in time to head out again, so neither of you settle in."

"All right," I say solemnly, "Let's go, Challis." I follow her out the door and then push into the street ahead. I can do this.

**DISTRICT EIGHT FEMALE: KENDAL BAIZE**

"Caden, they're all going out to parties after the reaping, and Mallory's trying to drag me along!"

My older sister gives me a fierce look. "You know you're not going. Not again, and for your own good."

I heave a huge sigh and flop back down on my bed, not caring if I might tear the sundress I'm wearing on the rough edge of the frame. "I know, and I don't want to ruin everything for myself… but what if they stop inviting me altogether? A social life is still important!"

Caden pushes her dark hair away from her face and sits down next to me. "First of all, if you went to any sort of party you wouldn't be able to hold yourself away from the alcohol for very long at all, not when Mallory was drinking as well. You'd come home totally hammered before dinner at that rate. And you promised me, Kendal, you promised-"

"I know, okay? And I've gotten tons better all thanks to you. I just… I want them to still like me, you know?"

"If your friends don't like you for not getting wasted with them, they're pretty sucky friends. You should find better."

"Like who, Lance?" I grin to myself, thinking of my friend like a little lost puppy.

"Sure, Lance," Caden teases, tapping me on the nose playfully, "Look, I get that you want to hang out but you're going to get lost again."

I sit up, suddenly serious, and throw my arms around Caden's shoulders. "Not with you here. You're my best friend, Caden, even if you're my sister and you're three years older than me and treat me like a preteen sometimes. I'll be fine thanks to you."

"And what if I'm not there for once?"

"I'll come back to you."

Caden looks like she wants to say something else, but then she checks her watch. "You've got to get to the Reaping. Last year, yeah?" I grin and nod, jumping off the bed and running through the house.

"Bye Mom, Dad!" I call as I rush past.

"Love you, dear!" Mom calls back out as I rush through the door. Yeah, if only she'd act on it more. "Celyn already went down to the town square, keep an eye out for her after the ceremony!" I roll my eyes as I slam the door behind me. Of course my angel of a little sister already got down to the square, she'd never forgive herself for being late to the Reaping. Didn't even wait for me, of course, she wouldn't want to spend time with someone who has fun every once in a while.

I jog through town, my dark hair bouncing against my back, and wave to a few of the older kids and younger adults I pass on the streets. I'm just on the lookout for Mallory or Lance right now, I want to talk to Mallory about that party, and Lance, well, if I see Lance then Mallory is nearby.

I reach the line at the check-in station and still don't catch sight of either of my friends, although I'm late enough that they'll probably be inside already. I'm stuck waiting behind two little kids, fourteen at the oldest, a boy and a girl who look similar enough to be fraternal twins. Neither of them want to step up when the Peacekeeper calls 'next!'

"Briley, are you gonna go first this year?" the boy asks his sister.

"I went first last year, this time you've got to go, Martin!" she snaps back at him.

I bend down and hiss in their ears. "One of you just go, already, there are people in line behind and we're all going to be late because of you two." Exaggeration, of course, but it works. The girl jumps out of her skin in surprise and guiltily steps forward.

I get signed in just as our escort, with his signature spiky purple hair, steps up to make a speech. "First of all," he begins, rolling his eyes, "I would like to announce that it is my final year escorting District Eight, and I couldn't be happier…"

It gives me time to slip into the crowd of other eighteen year old girls and find Mallory, who turns to me with a huge smirk on her face. "You planning to come to the party? It's gonna be huge, I've heard!"

I feel spectacularly guilty for a moment to both Mal and Caden, but I bite my lip. My sister can't make my decisions for me. The hardest days are over, I can have fun if I want. "Yeah, I'll be there. Can I follow you after the Reaping?"

"Of course, girl! Now, I suppose we'd better pay attention for this bit, maybe it'll be someone we hate." Her postulation is in jest, of course, but it's still a bit cruel.

"And here's hoping you won't be miserable this year… for the ladies, Kendal Baize!"

Hell no. They think I'll go up there willingly? Strong-faced? Noble? I'm not their toy for them to play with and then destroy! Insults bubble up to my tongue, and with a whispered protest from Mallory I stomp onstage. I want this stage to burn. I want everything to collapse and leave me the only one left standing. How could they do this? How? I have a life to live!

Standing onstage, I see the faces of Mallory, Lance right at the front of the boys' section, my parents in the audience and Celyn with the littler girls. They're all scared… and that scares me. What am I supposed to do now? Tears well up where there used to only be fury.

I hear the boy's name through ringing ears. Kilim Moquette… of Moquette Designs?

The boy comes up onstage kicking and screaming, hollering at our morose escort and kicking him in the shins. "It's your fault!" he shouts.

I turn back out to the crowd in disgust, seeing that Caden's forced her way to the front of the crowd. Our eyes meet and my sister's earlier words echo in my ears. "And what if I'm not there for once?"

Guess it came sooner than I expected. I'll be in the Capitol with no one from home but bratty Kilim.

And how am I supposed to hang onto my self-control in a situation like that?

**DISTRICT ELEVEN MALE: TERRAN PROVOST**

"I can't do it, Terran, I'll never be able to do it." My brother Robin slams the book closed and tosses it off his bed.

"Come on, bro, you can. I know you can."

The younger boy looks up at me with tears in his eyes. "I've been struggling through this stupid book since four in the morning, and it's seven-thirty now. I've progressed a chapter. One chapter. I can't do this! That's why I'm not even in school, you know that!"

I wipe away the tears that threaten to spill down his cheeks and then put my arm around his slumped shoulders. "It's not your fault. You work hard, and you're doing better, Robin, you really are. It's not your fault that you have a hard time reading, and the only reason you're not in school is because you had that one stupid teacher that made a bad remark and Mom chewed her out for it," I assure him firmly.

"I'm not good enough, though, you're the one who does all the important things. I'm not useful at all."

I shake my head and shush him. "You're my brother. You're you. Being yourself is all that matters, because just doing that can bring change to others. Don't say you're not useful."

"But you're going to leave any minute now and go do something important and I'll just be here, doing nothing, waiting for you to come back and take me to the Reaping."

I run a hand through my unruly dark hair, searching in vain for the right words. I do have to go out and manufacture another deal, but if I could stay and comfort Robin then I would, no questions asked. But the business world moves on and I can't get lost in my own life.

Robin's eyes search my face. "You have to go, don't you?" he asks flatly. I nod, not meeting his hurt gaze.

"I have to meet Oli in ten minutes, but I'll be back way before we have to leave again, okay?"

"Okay, I guess."

I tousle my brother's hair and then slip out the back door into the empty street, tugging my dark hood over my eyes to hide my face. I run through my route quickly in my head, planning out different ways home and possible escape routes. Two blocks east, three west, near the storehouses. The dingiest alley we could locate nearby. Sticking to the shadows, I head off on my task.

The narrow gap between two buildings is already occupied and I pull up short right before I enter. A short, lithe figure leans against one of the walls, face obscured in the early morning shadows.

"Terran, that you?" I relax only a little at the familiar voice. Abel Sitori, the main messenger for my little business.

"You're here early, Abel."

"Yeah, your buyer knew exactly what he wanted. Some of that measles medication. Looks like there's a sick kid somewhere nearby." I nod shortly, waiting for the rest of my runner's report. "He said he'd gladly give the offered price."

"Did you get a name out of him?"

"Nah."

"Must be affluent, then, not desperate enough or just ashamed to show his face in the black market. The deal is good, Olivander will get you the medication this afternoon. When you meet him again, take Glynn with you for backup and try and get, an extra ten dollars. This fellow sounds inexperienced." Abel nods in response, his shaggy black hair falling over his eyes in the process.

"Terran! Abel!" I whirl around, startled, only to see a Hispanic boy running down the alley from the other end.

"Oli, you've already missed the deal," I scoff, "Maybe you should try running more?"

He rolls his eyes at me. "And you should try being nice on occasion. I had to help my mom sort out some of her expenses. We're neighbors, man, thanks for waiting on me!"

I grin and pull him into a hug. "Good to see you, bro."

"You look exhausted, what's up?"

"Robin." Olivander nods. That explains it enough for him. "Speaking of Robin, he'll expect me back before we have to get to the Reaping. Walk with me?" We nod goodbye to Abel, who's already stalking off in the other direction, and meander out of the alley.

"Only two more years, aye?" Oli starts cheerfully. I nod thoughtfully in agreement. I can make it, I know I can make it, my family's better-off status in the district and my work on the side have kept Robin and I out of tesserae.

"I'm ready to move on to bigger things," I decide.

"Bigger things?" I sigh, Olivander's never been particularly keen on my shady business racket. "Promise me you won't do something stupid."

"Since when do I do stupid things?" I laugh, elbowing him, "And besides, even if I get the wrong idea in my head I can always count on you to rein me in. We balance each other out."

"We didn't always, you used to hate me," my best friend rolls his eyes as he mentions the rivalry that was between us as toddlers.

"Luckily for both of us, not anymore," I reply fondly, just as we reach our street. Olivander steps from my side and enters his own home. "See you later!"

I only take three steps inside before Robin shoots out from his room and nearly tackles me in a hug. "You're back!"

"I promised, didn't I?" Squirming out of his grasp, I remove my jacket and push my hair back from my face. "Mom and Dad already go?" He nods. "All right, our turn."

My brother sticks to my side like glue on the way to the town square- luckily for us, it's a short walk, for many others I see on the way it's much longer. Some kids are covered in dust from the knees down, others don't even have any shoes.

I part from Robin for a few seconds, sneaking up behind one girl whose ribs show through her faded and patched dress and pressing a few dollars into her hand. She whirls around to search for the giver, but I've melted back into the crowd with Robin again.

I'll do anything to keep the people's heads up and undermine the Capitol's determination to keep us in poverty.

Standing at the checkpoint, I see Abel in the next line over; he meets my eye and we give each other a short nod. He'll be going to the fifteen-year-old section, while I'm with the seventeens and Robin will sit nervously with the thirteens.

I lead my little brother to his section and then retreat to mine. Olivander's there, waiting for me already, and I take a position beside him. Let's get this over with, I've got things to do.

**DISTRICT ELEVEN FEMALE: ARDITH RENVILLE**

I'm drawn towards the sound of a child crying like a moth to a flame, and I quickly locate a young boy with a large gash in his shin curled up on the side of the country road. "What happened? Are you all right?" I ask, rushing over to his side and kneeling beside him. He gives me a scared look and holds in his sniffles for a few moments.

"Th…th…there was a dog," he stammers nervously, and I nod understandingly. The feral dogs of Eleven are vicious and I've bandaged several bites before. I sling my bag off my shoulder and root around in it for a roll of bandages and some of my mother's homemade antiseptic ointment.

"I'm going to help you, okay? Just relax, dear, you'll be okay," I explain soothingly to the little boy, who can't be more than nine.

"What are you doing?" he asks, cringing away from me as I reach for the wounded area.

"I'm going to clean and bandage the area, all right? It may hurt a bit but this is important, we can't have you getting an infection!" I've seen infected wounds kill in the lower classes before, and my heart always goes out to the limping orchard workers who have never fully healed from similar injuries.

"What is that?" he asks of the ointment when I squeeze a dollop of it into my hand.

"Just the cleaning agent I'm using, calm down now."

He winces when I apply the creamy mixture to his leg, but I'm proud when he doesn't cry out. He's pretty tough for a little boy.

"It looks like the mark isn't that deep, you should heal quickly!" I cheerfully tell the boy. He nods, still staring at me warily. "Where's your family? Do you want me to take you to them?"

"I don't have any family," he whispers, edging away from me. I lay a cautious hand on his shoulder and its boniness shocks me. This poor little boy must be starving.

"Well, you should have some good nutrition to help you get strong and heal faster, even fight of those dogs next time!" He smiles at that. "I'll give you this, it's what I have with me at the moment." I hand him a handful of dollars, it won't go far but at least it's something. I don't think Mother would be too happy with me just giving away all my pocket money, but this kid needs it more than I do. I actually have meat on my bones, this poor little boy doesn't.

"Thank you, Miss!" he chirps and limps away much more happily. I watch him go for a few moments, then I'm off to the reaping. I take a quiet spot in the seventeen-year-old girls section, watching the nervous girls all around me and every so often running my hands over my short black hair in anxiety.

"Excuse me, would you mind moving over a bit?" I'm startled from my reverie by a group of four girls wanting my attention. The girl in front, with frizzy dark hair and skin almost as dark, smiles apologetically.

"Sure, I don't mind." I step to the side and let the group fill in around my old spot. I can feel their eyes on me still, and they don't turn away until Camille slinks up to my side and nods in greeting. They watch me because of my relative affluence in the district, and I find it unbelievably awkward. Just because my mother has a successful business, we don't need to be observed.

Camille, quiet as always, is breathing heavily and stares at me with wide eyes. "You okay?" I ask.

"Scared," she whispers. I nod and put a gentle, friendly arm across her shoulders just as the escort steps up.

We have someone new. Fantastic! For all my previous years, we've had a cynical, hateful man who never had any faith in our district. That did nothing for the rest of our hopes.

A young woman takes her place onstage, sprightly taking the microphone and beaming. "Hello, Eleven, I'm so glad to be joining you for the very very first time ever! I'm your new escort, Lucretia, and I have the honor of choosing two brave tributes for the Games!"

I bite my lip. Lucretia seems nice but… she's happily sending kids to their deaths. The Capitol is so unreliable… they provide my mother's business but then they host the Games as well. It would be so much easier if I could just pick a side!

"For our ladies- isn't this exciting, my first tribute ever!- Ardith Renville!"

I burst into tears. Me? The Games? How am I supposed to do that? I can't even defend myself against other people's criticisms, much less against real weapons.

It's a shaky path to the stage and by the time I reach Lucretia, who's gazing at me worriedly, I'm trembling all over. The Games?

I'm going to die. I'm going to die and there's nothing I'll be able to do about it. Of course, that thought only makes my tears flow more freely. I don't want to die, I have things to live for! I force my grimace into a neutral face just in time to glance over at the boy who's just arrived on stage, his coppery face carefully arranged in a blank expression.

"Ardith Renville and Terran Provost, everyone!"

I wipe away another tear before reaching out for Terran's hand. He shakes mine carefully, face still wiped clean. He almost reminds me of my brother Osbert, hiding himself behind a cautiously constructed mask.

He reminds me of the dear brother I may never see again. I didn't even say goodbye to him this morning, I'm such an awful person!

The tears well up again and I can't bother to care about my public image anymore.

* * *

**Well, we've met a third of the tributes now! What districts may be next? Who knows... 0.o **

**Questions:**

_**Who was your favorite tribute from this chapter?**_

_**Are you seeing any possible alliances?**_

_**What is your favorite tribute archetype to read about?**_

**Okay, PenMagic has asked me to broadcast these authors who have SYOT slots to fill: Lightning at Noon and wwheisenberg! If you want to make another tribute, I recommend visiting their pages XD Another open SYOT can be found written by The Lunar Lioness.**

**And, as always, tell me what you thought! :) Love you all!**


	5. Reapings: D2 & D10

**Oof, it's been too long. Blame theatre and me trying to avoid burnout, I guess. Sorry. :/ Schedules don't mean as much to me now that I'm trying to balance more of a load. I write when I can and that's not often enough.**

**Anyway! Here we have districts Two, with our girl Ita from Manda Louise and our boy Griffin from jessicallons-y, and Ten, with our girl Nairi from katsparkle13 and our boy Korry from SkinOfInk! Also a cameo in D2 with Atalanta from Acereader55 :)**

**Trigger warning for mentions of suicide in Griffin's POV.**

* * *

**DISTRICT TWO MALE: GRIFFIN AINSWORTH**

"Sage, it's another Reaping Day!" my mother simpers at my younger brother from across the table. "In just a few years, you'll volunteer for us also, won't you?"

Sage freezes and glances at me nervously. I only stare down at my food, silently fuming at my parents. They think they've given up on asking me that… they've turned to the thirteen-year-old.

"Of course he will, our boys are brave. Winners!"

Try telling that to Max's gravestone, Father. He was brave, brave enough to escape the pressure of volunteering on his own terms.

"I might…" Sage answers uncertainly, "maybe someday?" He toys with his fork nervously as he speaks.

He won't. I'll make sure of it, our parents won't dig their claws into him. They won't ruin another one of us.

Mother looks at me for a moment, but her gaze moves coldly on. I was always too close to Max for her to try to harangue me into volunteering. I bet they think I'd pull the same stunt as my older brother… I was close to it for a while.

I down the last few gulps of my water hastily and start to back up from the table. This action is met with icy glares from both my parents and a worried look from Sage, one that says 'don't leave me alone with them'. I sigh. "May I be excused?" They nod, satisfied, and I exit the kitchen and make a dash for my room. Behind me, I hear Sage ask the same question and then hurry after me.

"Griffin, wait!"

I slow down so he can catch up to me, although all I want is to get out of my parents' suffocating atmosphere. "What is it, bro?"

"Today you're eighteen…"

"I've been eighteen for a few months now, actually. But I know- after today neither of us are going to ever think about volunteering again."

"Why do Mother and Father always ask me about volunteering but not you?"

I look my little brother straight in the eyes. "Because they think I'll steal a gun and find a way out of the pressure like Max did." He backs down, but still follows me into my room and sits on the bed as I pull on my shoes. "You okay?"

"What did you mean, after today neither of us are ever going to think about volunteering again?"

"I'm going to stop their incessant whining."

"But…"

"It's best for both of us." I won't have to deal with the pressure anymore, and they'll lighten up on Sage, too, which is for the best. While I'm gone, though, Sage will have to manage on his own- but I won't have to put up with any of my family or the other citizens of Two. My freedom is so close I can nearly taste it. And if I come back… if I come back I can make sure Sage doesn't have to even talk to our parents again if he doesn't want to.

And I plan on coming back, this isn't a suicide mission no matter how many people might expect that of me. And it isn't for my parents and their money, either.

I nod to Sage, who jumps off my bed and scrambles out the door. Time to head down to the square, see who else shows up. Plans of volunteering have been bouncing around school recently, kids from various training centers are all trying to scare each other off, but I know of at least five guys who plan to run, and seven girls. None of them know about me. That's the way I prefer, waiting in the wings as everyone else tries to claim the spotlight. The amount of attention on me was bad enough after Max…

I stride through the kitchen, trying to keep my appearances up. "I'm so proud of my boys!" Mother coos, bustling over to Sage and fiddling with his hair. Father nods coolly at us but says nothing.

I'm out the door before Mother can even try to turn her stifling, oppressive attention on me. After a few moments, Sage's scurrying footsteps follow me out the door. The sky is hazy, dark with smog and rainclouds that I can't really tell apart.

It's scary how accurately the district weather mirrors my mood. Polluted.

Not even the appearance of Sebastian, my close friend, brings me any more out of the funk. All I want to do is go home, lie in bed, stare at the ceiling, maybe cry. Not go to the Reaping, certainly not force myself through volunteering.

"Hey, man, you doing all right? I haven't seen you this down in a while," Sebastian's omnipresent smile wavers as he senses my mood. I shrug. "Well, let's get this over with. I want to see the catfight when the girls start to volunteer!"

Sage scrambles on ahead to the check-in point, leaving Sebastian and me behind. "Okay, so now that the kid's gone, are you going to tell me what's really up?" He steps in front of me and walks backwards in order to hold my gaze.

"I'm gonna do it."

Sebastian blanches, reeling backward and almost knocking over a tawny-skinned girl. "Watch it!" she snaps.

"Sorry. Griffin, what? Are you serious? Are you mental?"

"I need to get out of here. Get the pressure off my back, and my brother's. This is the only way to clear my head."

"If you're planning on not coming back…" he trails off warningly. I don't meet his eyes. I'm going in there for myself. Is it selfish? Probably. Come on, I tell myself, have some self-esteem for once! But I can't just command my emotions.

Sebastian shakes his head in despair. "Come on, then, let's get you to our section before you think of something else stupid to do."

"In all honesty, the past four years of my life have been me doing stupid things and barely getting dragged out of them."

This time I'm the only person who can stop myself. And if that's my fatal flaw, I'm screwed.

**DISTRICT TWO FEMALE: ITA BRECCHIA**

The babble of people assaulting my ears makes it hard to decipher the actual mood of my environment, each person in line with me seems to have a different emotion concerning the events of the day.

"Ugh, can we just get this over with?" one girl seethes.

"Did you hear, Molly Maxon's planning to volunteer this year?" the breathless gossip of another butts into the conversation.

"I'm gonna do it." Out of nowhere, some idiot propels himself into my back, and it's only years of motion training and control that keep me from toppling over. I glare at the two boys who are talking, and the one who just knocked into me apologizes hastily before turning away. His friend, with spiky brown hair and green eyes, hardly even acknowledges me. I shuffle forward, trying to get out of their reach.

"I'm scaaared, Theo! What if I'm chosen?" That's a much younger voice.

Someone, presumably Theo, replies, "You won't be up there for long, too many people want to volunteer."

I hum a nameless tune in my head, trying to drown out the chaos of Reaping Day. Even my treasured music can't block out the disorder around me, and I'm relieved when the Peacekeeper calls me forward to have my finger pricked. It doesn't hurt, and I move on to the cordoned sections, ignoring the dot of blood on my thumb.

"Ita! Itaaa!"

I would know that voice anywhere. I scan the area, puzzled not to see him in the sections until, silly me, I remember he's not of eligible age anymore. In the audience area I find him, hanging half-over the barrier and waving at me. "Quartz!" I run over to him, nimbly dodging many of the other girls milling around.

"Good to see you. Is this your year?"

"It is indeed."

"And only seventeen? Impressive."

"I'm at the top of my game, when else? And there's always the possibility I'll injure myself either dancing or training before next year. I'm not afraid, why not go earlier than the rest?"

"Not afraid… sometimes you scare me, okay?"

"Aw, are you scared? I'm ashamed to have ever lost to you then," I retort wickedly, "And you lost your spot in the Games three years ago to that Tanner boy!"

"Hey, he made top five, it wasn't that bad!"

I roll my eyes. "Still." Quarts pulls a face at me and I smile at him a little. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Victors filing onstage- they're about to start the ceremony. I start to move away, but Quartz grabs my arm. My first reaction is to jerk away more violently, but Quartz is my friend. Maybe I can break tradition for once.

"Agate's here," he whispers hurriedly.

"Yeah, so?" My eyes flick up to the stage and the woman who sits there with our only other mentor now, Tiberius Chan. It's been over a year since Colton Baxter's body was found in the Capitol.

"She was arrested recently," he hisses, "They found her and two other mentors in the Gamemaker Headquarters. I thought for sure she wouldn't be back by now!"

"They were where?"

"You heard me."

"I would have thought the punishments would be harsher."

"They are… maybe they weren't prepared to cause a big stir right before the Games? Not prepared, or just not equipped. Mentors haven't tried something like this before."

"Okay, whatever. I have to go, Quartz."

He nods understandingly. "Good luck."

Our escort steps up to choose the names. "Ladies first!" he says, and I'm proud of myself for finally remembering his correct gender this year. "Atalanta Fidella!"

A girl with white-blond hair bursts out from the seventeens, from exactly the area I was headed towards. I jump back, biting my tongue to keep from cursing aloud, as the girl storms the stage. "I can do this," she mutters under her breath desperately, "I can do this!" She's planning to claim the spot early, and no one else sees it. They're going to hold tradition and wait for the right moment.

I charge forward, bursting past Atalanta and bearing heavily to the stage. "What?" she wails behind me, and out of the corner of my eye I see her pale hair flip side to side as she runs after me. "No, that's my spot!"

It's mine, silly girl. I run with long graceful strides, my dancer's training coming into play even as Atalanta gains on me. We're neck and neck when I vault onstage… just ahead of her.

There's an outcry from several eighteen-year olds, but I'm already accepting the microphone from our escort. "I'm Ita Brecchia, seventeen years old. Thank you for the opportunity."

He nods at me happily and moves on to the males' bowl. "And our boy tribute for this year, one Serestus Tarquin!"

I recognize the boy from my classes in school, he's relatively quiet and relatively bad at training. He still manages a confident walk onstage though, because it's obvious he won't be up there for long. But this time, unlike me, there aren't any rule breakers. "Are there any volunteers?" There we go- a chorus of desperate boys. I watch curiously as a horde of them come up to the stage, shoving and fighting for the coveted spot.

One of them breaks forward, scrambling messily onstage and pushing his hand hastily through his hair.

"And what's your name, young man?"

"Griffin Ainsworth," he offers his name between heavy breaths, his eyes darting around nervously like he's still afraid of someone taking his spot. I straighten my back and hold out my hand to him. He takes it with a strong grip.

He seems fairly average though. I think he'll be a good ally… look at me, already thinking past the delicate strategies of the Capitol week.

Stay in the moment, Ita, and you'll be all right. Stay calm, stay strong, stay poised. I have to hum a song to myself to keep my racing mind under control.

**DISTRICT TEN MALE: KORRY FALDERS**

"Korry, come on man, wake up!"

"Hnngg?" I blearily blink open my eyes, a slight headache pulsing behind my eyes. It takes a few minutes for Fae and her other friend Camden to come into focus. "Where even am I?"

"At Cam's house, calm down. The party last night, remember?"

I grin as best I can with the lingering hangover and fuzzy tongue. "Oh yeah. Guess I didn't make it home? How much did I drink?"

Fae rolls her eyes. "You only managed to mooch two off the other guys here. You're such a lightweight, Korry, seriously."

I wink at her. "'Seriously' doesn't apply to me at all, Fae, you know that." She sighs and sticks her tongue out at me childishly.

"Korry, time to get you home, bro." Camden hauls me to a standing position and I find that my head doesn't spin when I stand. Good. My parents would kill me if I came home hungover, and on Reaping day? I'd be double dead. Too bad I guess, but it's better to just avoid it.

Camden leads Fae and me to the door but stops there, needing to get ready for the reaping himself. Fae, on the other hand, already looks ready to go, her makeup fixed from last night and her dress nice enough for the reaping. At least by my judgment, but girls at the merchant parties are really the only people I see in dresses.

Fae stays at my side as we walk down the street. "So how's your family faring?"

"Pretty well, I mean not exactly that well but better than others, I guess."

She sighs. "Are they both getting their wages?"

I hesitate before shaking my head. "Neither of them. The field workers can't manage to give the full pay, they say it's because of seed shortages…" Just on cue, my stomach rumbles, reminding me that I haven't had a full meal in three days now. Fae looks worried.

"Maybe I can help?"

"What, offering me money for a kiss?" Fae blushes furiously. I grin, rolling my eyes at her. "We've established this, I'm not your man whore."

"Well duh," she snaps back teasingly.

"If I didn't know better I'd say you liiiiked me!" I joke back, nudging her shoulder with my own.

"What are you, five? I don't like you, dork," she replies forcefully even as she goes a little red. She never could take a joke, I laugh to myself.

We reach my street and Fae's stride falters. "I should get back to my house," she says, "You know, stuff to do." I nod goodbye to her and walk the rest of the way to my house in silence.

"Mom? Dad? I'm back!"

"Korry?" My dad calls out to me, "Where have you been?"

"Relax, Iren, he's fine, I'm sure."

Both of them file into the kitchen, smiling at me. I grin back, turning to Dad. "I was just out with Camden and Fae late… by the time I realized how late it was the path home would have been dangerous, so I just crashed at Cam's place." He nods hesitantly, but my mother accepts the story without question. There's not much else for her to do, really, she's always too focused on her work to keep an eye on me. I do get some attention for disappearing all night, though. Attention from Dad, that is. And I don't want to get them too worried. Worried isn't good, but happy is good.

I go up to my room and pull on a clean blue t shirt and beige trousers; it's warm outside but I don't have any better clothes that fit. Splashing some water on my face and in my dark brown hair, I head back downstairs where my parents hardly acknowledge my presence.

"I'm off to the square, let's hope the odds are in my favor!" My loud voice makes both of them jump a little and I'm inwardly sort of happy that I've surprised them. It was funny.

"We'll see you later, Korry!" Dad calls.

"Bye!"

I stroll out of the house and back down the street, Fae long gone although her footprints are still visible in the dust. I shove my hands in my pockets and whistle to myself, a tuneless song that's vaguely familiar. The noise cheers me up; to make myself laugh I start making funny rhythms and sliding pitches until I start chuckling and can't hold it up anymore.

As I pass by a street corner near the center of town, I catch the eye of some patrolling Peacekeepers. They glare at me, and I automatically try to walk a little straighter and stand a little taller, but I laugh at myself and then tip an imaginary hat in their direction. It's Reaping Day, they can't do anything to me.

"Get on to the Square," one of them, a big gruff man, barks at me, "the ceremony is about to begin, you're not allowed to be late!"

"Have a little fun!" I shout in reply, jauntily moving past them and into the crowds surrounding the square. I look around for Fae after I sign in, but there's no sign of her. I see Camden, but since Fae's our only connection and I don't know him well outside of the party circles, I don't approach him. He's just a name to give to my parents when I need an excuse for something.

"Hey, Korry!" A few of the guys in the sixteens section call over to me; I vaguely recognize them from around town so over I walk and greet them.

"How are things?"

"Eh, fine," one of them, I think his name is Josten, shrugs and points to the stage, "That's a bit of a downer though!"

I nod and laugh, joining them in the cordoned-off area. It's a good enough place to be. There are people who are willing to laugh with me, what other comfort can I want?

**DISTRICT TEN FEMALE: NAIRI GREY**

"Mom? Dad? Can Oliver walk with us to the town square?"

My father glances up from a letter he's been writing. "Of course, you'll have to go get him from his house, but he can certainly walk with us."

"Thank you!" I giggle, excited, and dash towards the door to find my friend. Once outside, I don't even realize I'm barefoot until I feel the rough grass and clay dirt beneath my toes. I dodge a few of Dad's sheep and skirt around Mom's herb garden, then I've reached our gravelly dirt road and I'm home free all the way down the street.

"Oliver! Oliver!" I sing out all the way to his house. By the time I reach the door, he's already heard me calling his name and flings it open to greet me. I collapse into his arms, breathless. "Do you wanna walk with me and my parents to the square?"

"Yeah, sounds fun!" He grins and pushes me off him a little ways; I turn around to leave, grabbing his hand to drag him with me, when he pulls away. "I have to ask my grandma Sage first, my parents are out herding today. Wait a second, ok?" I nod, laughing at my own forgetfulness, and plant my feet on the front porch step as Oliver disappears back inside his ramshackle house for a few moments.

I screech in surprise when he reappears. "You scared me!"

"Obviously I did! You should see your face!"

I stick my tongue out at him and then rush back to the road, Oliver following closely behind me. "Are we going to the square now or to your house?" I point ahead in reply to his question, motioning to the garden and the sheep ahead of us. "Your house then."

"I've got Oliver!" I cry, bursting through the front door.

"Nairi, you'll break the door down if you continuously slam it aside like that," Mom reprimands gently, pushing the creaky thing back into place behind me.

"Well, I haven't done it yet, so it'll be fine."

"You'll keep thinking that as long as the habit persists."

Dad remembers Oliver and goes over to shake his hand. "I haven't seen much of you recently, Oliver! How was the end of the school year?"

"I've seen Oliver plenty recently, how haven't you?" I blurt out, before remembering that Oliver and I work more together with the animals, so of course I see him more. "Sorry, sorry."

"It was… fine, I suppose, although a bit hard to stomach. The Capitol propaganda and all, and Grandma always tells me different. The whole village tells me different," Oliver shrugs off the questions of school and glances at me nervously. I grin back at him. I haven't had to go to school in ages now, my parents took me out and told the officials that I couldn't learn right or something. Then they said to me and the village, that they took me out because they didn't want me to hear the Capitol propaganda.

I don't know, maybe both reasons were right.

"Is your grandmother walking with us?" Mom asks Oliver.

He shakes his head. "No, she isn't feeling especially well."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that! We'd best be off, though. Come on, girls!"

She leads the way outside, and my younger sister Birdie and I follow close behind. Oliver tails me, and Father stays behind all of us.

Halfway through the walk, my feet start to drag and so do Oliver's. Birdie starts to complain about being tired, so Dad lets her ride on his back. Lucky, she's only seven. She can still do that.

"I don't want to keep going," I mutter, "And we have to go to the Reaping, ugh."

"It was odd enough that you were almost excited to be on your way earlier," comments Mom, "That you almost embraced the hype of the day."

"Don't worry, why would I do that?"

"A very good question," Dad says sternly, and the conversation is over. I walk beside Oliver in silence, trying to focus on making my feet keep moving forward, and send quick little glances at him every so often. Once, I catch him doing the same thing; our eyes meet and I see that he looks scared. It gives me the overwhelming urge to hold his hand or something equally comforting.

It takes us two hours to reach the main city of Ten, and my feet are aching. When I mention it to Oliver, he only sighs. "Yeah, and we have to stand for another hour now!"

"What? Why?"

He glares pointedly at me. "The ceremony?"

"Oh yeah."

After checking in, Oliver and I part ways and I go to stand with the other girls. I don't know any of them in my age group, our village is small and the only other fourteen year old is Oliver. I don't see many other kids or teenagers, honestly.

I start looking around, tuning out all the chattering people. I feel lonely, here in an almost foreign place surrounded by unfamiliar people and noises. I like the wild, where I run through the grass and say whatever I want…

"Nairi Grey!"

What? I whip my head around, my long brown hair hitting the girl beside me in the face. "Sorry," I whisper.

"Nairi Grey?"

"That's me," I say uncertainly. What's this? What? I've been… reaped? "Reaped…" I whisper.

My legs are almost too shaky to make it onstage, but I think I manage. Looking out on the crowd is harder. I see Birdie's crestfallen face, Oliver gnawing his lip, my parents angry and confused. The first tear slides down my cheek and I swipe it away, determined to not cry- or if I do, to make it silent.

The escort moves on. "Korry Falders!"

I can pick out poor Korry right away. He starts suddenly in the sixteens section, flinching backwards in shock. He's identified himself now… but he shakes off the fear and strolls up beside me with a smile plastered on a face. His eyes, though, are still the picture of shock. The same feeling I have.

We go through the motions, shaking hands, facing the audience, trying not to cry. I feel more tears roll down my face.

Don't cry. For Birdie, okay, Nairi? Don't cry.

Too late. I'm crying.

* * *

**SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT: I AM COLLABORATING WITH IMMYROSE, JAKEY121, AND CASHMERE67 ON A MAJOR PROJECT- WE ARE CONTINUING JAKE'S THE 13 GAMES WITH DISTRICT EIGHT. EACH OF US WILL BE WRITING FOR SIX TRIBUTES, AND WE NEED MORE SUBMISSIONS STILL! THE INFO IS ON JAKE'S PAGE, GET TO WORK ON THOSE TRIBUTES OK FRIENDS?**

**And thank you all readers for waiting this patiently for an update! FFN went through a bit of a lull, hopefully that's done and updates/reviews will get back up to speed :)**

**Question time!**

_**What did you think of these four? Who was your favorite?**_

_**We've been through twelve tributes now, any overall favorites yet, or predictions on alliances?**_

**And as always, tell me what you thought :D**


	6. Reapings: D6 & D9

**Heyy, look at me, relatively on time (and hoping to keep it that way now)! We've got District Six (with our girl Trista Minniver from LexisZ-10 and our boy Calisto Milas from Deadly Animals Are Cute) and District Nine (with our girl Geneva Torres from thgfan9 and our boy Arcas Kodo from bobothebear). Enjoy!**

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**DISTRICT SIX FEMALE: TRISTA MINNIVER**

"Landon," I mutter into the old carpet of my best friend's house, "Landon, I don't wanna get up, we've got ages until the Reaping."

I feel his hand on the top of my head, tousling my already-disastrous hair. "Don't you have to get home? You are covered in dirt from the game last night."

"I'm not going home, I've been gone all night and my mom would probably murder me if I had the audacity to show up this early in the morning, in this condition, and say I was hanging out with you and the guys."

"Your mom does not know you, huh?"

"Tell me about it. She'll spit out some miserable lecture about how I should be more ladylike and then try and force me into a dress and bows." I skim over the fact that she'd be utterly horrified that her little girl was playing _sports _with _boys_ and doing _who knows what else _in the middle of the night.

"Ew."

"I know, right?" I roll over, the sun momentarily blinding me through the slats of the window blinds, and groan blearily. "I'm going back to sleep, wake me up at a reasonable time, dork!"

Landon nudges my shoulder with his foot again. "Come on, any sleep now won't help, we'll still be swaying on our feet at the Reaping."

"Leave me alooone!"

He laughs, but complies with my request, backing off to get ready for the Reaping himself. I snuggle into the carpet as much as I can and try to fall back asleep. I can just sneak over to my house next door in another half-hour if I decide to care about the way I look.

The carpet must have some sort of magical sleep-inducing power because the next thing I know I'm being shaken awake and Landon's got his face about six inches from mine. "What the crap, man?" I manage to get out before rolling away from him hurriedly.

"You've got ten minutes to be as ready as you want for the Reaping ceremony without being late!"

I halfheartedly reach out and wave my hand around in the air until he grabs it and pulls me to my feet. "How do I look?"

He chuckles. "Aside from the carpet marks on your face and the dirt all over your clothes and the rat's nest you call your hair, looking fine!"

I pretend for a moment that I'm a Capitol model strolling down a catwalk and take three steps towards my best friend. "Not so bad yourself for a guy who can barely knot his tie!" I pretend to leap for the blue strip of cloth around his neck; Landon flinches back.

"You're a mess!"

"Yeah, but a hot mess!"

He rolls his eyes. "Nine minutes, Trista!"

I stick my tongue out. "I know, I know, I'll be fine!" I do need to get ready, though, I may joke with Landon but I'd hate to go see the whole rest of the district looking a total wreck. Scooting out the door, I tiptoe over to my home next door, listening at the back door to make sure nobody's standing around nearby, then slipping in and up the stairs to my room. I still don't hear anyone thumping around. It wouldn't surprise me if my worrywart brothers were already off to the Justice Building and my mom bustling along behind them.

It also doesn't surprise me that Mom's laid out some frilly old dress of hers on my bed, along with an angry note demanding to know where I've been all night.

Yeesh, Mom, calm down, it's not like I'm sleeping around or robbing banks. I'd be better at hiding things from you if I were doing questionable things.

I ignore the dress and the note, finding capri-length pants and a light green blouse to wear although I don't change my comfortable shoes for more formal ones. It takes me years to get all the knots out of my hair and mud off my hands and face, but at last I deem myself presentable and scurry back over to Landon's.

He's gone. The jerk.

I take off running down the street, trying to catch up with him before he enters town. Wait! There, ahead, a little blue figure on the path. I speed up, finally catching him as the buildings of the main town loom over us.

"At last! I told you I would leave without you," he quips, but my face still turns a bit red.

"I didn't take that long!"

"Sure, you say that, but the carpet marks have already faded completely. You took ages, I'm surprised with all that time you spent getting ready you're not wearing makeup!"

"Don't generalize. Anyway, I'm here now."

"Yeah, and there's the check-in station. Do I have to remind you to not say anything stupid about the Capitol?"

"Fine, fine… it's my brothers you'd have to remind anyway, they're the ones who think they're all grown up."

"Cute."

"You talking about me now? Aw, thanks!" I joke, winking at my friend. We both blush after that. Oops. Awkward.

My stomach twists into its first knot of the day as I hold out my hand to the Peacekeeper with the needle. After flinching at the brief pain, I move into the roped-off sections and wait for Landon.

"Trista!" Sadly, the voice doesn't belong to Landon. It's my brother Harley. "Trista, Mom was freaking out last night, where were you?"

"Not your business," I mutter back. Harley shouldn't be acting like a dad, not when our dad was such a jerk in the first place.

To be fair, maybe he's just stressed over the reaping? It's his last, after all. Alexander, only a year younger, is probably far less worried at the moment.

But it's my life, not his.

Landon finally comes over and when Harley sees my friend he only nods suspiciously and turns to find his section.

"Let's get this over with," I whisper to Landon, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the crowd.

**DISTRICT SIX MALE: CALISTO MILAS**

The roar of emotions and chatter surrounding me is rather irritating, you'd think more people would just be plain old scared and nervous (point in case: me) rather than getting all clingy and talkative. To each their own defense mechanism, I guess. It's be a lot easier if people just thought the same way… although to be fair, way more boring.

I fold my arms over my chest and shuffle forward with the line at the security checkpoint, trying to focus on just getting through this mess and not on the thirteen year old almost hysterical right in front of me.

They shouldn't have to be this scared in the first place, though. But according to the Capitol, life's not fair.

I manage to survive the Peacekeepers' atrocious organization skills and march straight over to the seventeen-year-olds section, taking up a position on the boundary line between us and the sixteens. It doesn't take long before someone lays a hand on my shoulder.

"Calisto? It's Lysander."

"I could have guessed, honestly. You're the only 16 year old guy I talk to on more than a monthly basis."

He lets out a quiet laugh as I turn to face him. "Good to see you too, Calisto."

"Any of the others coming over here to visit before the ceremony starts?"

"I don't think so, the Mayor's already preparing to give the speech as it is. Not enough time to just chat. There's Tanith, though, right across from you." I whip my head around to the girls' section, and there's another friend of mine, waving. I wave back halfheartedly.

"You know, Lys, it's been ages since you lot tried to set me and Tanith up. I suppose Pallas and Diana are in the middle of some scheme?"

"It would be rude of me to tell."

"Come on, grow a pair-"

"Ladies and gentlemen," begins our inexperienced new Mayor- it's her first reaping ceremony this year, actually, "Welcome to the District Six Reaping ceremony for the Twentieth Annual Hunger Games!"

Another year of stupidity, that's all I'm getting out of this speech.

Our escort is still Varro Catiline, and I think he's wearing the same seven different floral prints that he's worn the previous two years of escorting. Whatever. If he wants to look like a walking flower shop that is entirely up to him.

"Shall we go with ladies first this year?" he asks cheerfully, but to my amusement he's greeted by dead silence from the entire square. "All right, ladies it is!" He strides over to the reaping bowl, filled to the brim with tiny paper slips, and accidentally knocks a few names out as he selects a piece of paper.

Time slows to a crawl for the whole district as Varro unfolds the slip and pauses once, twice before moving to the microphone.

"Trista Minniver!"

The first yelp of realization comes from the fifteen year olds, and as I turn to see exactly who's life has been ruined I catch a glimpse of my sister Pallas in the same age group, stepping back as a dark-haired, fair-skinned girl steps into view. Even from here I can see her cheeks reddening and her eyes brimming with tears.

She makes it to the stage, visibly trembling, and then Varro lets loose. He's asking questions this year. "How are you feeling, Trista?"

"More than a little terrified, no thanks to you!" she spits back at him halfheartedly. He pats her on the back and then moves to the other bowl. This time the tension weighs heavily on all the guys, and no one breathes until he opens his mouth to read the slip.

"Calisto Milas!"

It doesn't register until I hear the all-too-familiar comment, accompanied by the ubiquitous snickering, from some immature kid behind me. "Isn't that a girl's name?"

It's _my_ name, that's for sure. Trying not to clench my fists and give away the fear I'm drowning in, I begin the long walk to the stage where Varro and Trista wait anxiously.

I've heard plenty of stories where tributes found themselves in a panicky shock at this point. I can't bring myself to that, maybe because somehow I expected this. "It makes sense, I'll probably die in the bloodbath anyway," I mutter under my breath as I ascend the stairs to the platform.

I shake Trista's hand, basically on autopilot, but I snap back to reality when I glance out on the crowd. The stupidest thought comes in my head: if I ever were to come back alive, the gang would probably have made a bet that I would finally date Tanith. And if I were to come back alive, I might agree.

I'm being an idiot. Tearing my mind away from trivial thoughts, I try and pick out the rest of my friends and family. It'll be pointless finding Mom and Dad in the vast crowd of adults, but I can locate Lysander, and Tanith, and my poor dear sister Pallas is sobbing where she stands with the other fifteen year olds. If I concentrate I can hear her near-hysterical crying from the stage.

It breaks my heart.

I see a ripple effect among the guys still in their sections, and tracing it find Adonis making a beeline for Lysander and standing with him… a small comfort that my friends care.

Varro asks me the same question he directed to Trista. "How are you feeling right now?"

"Forgive me for not jumping with joy. Sprained ankle."

I find Diana in the crowd right after I say that, and she's grinning despite tears in her eyes. A comfort that she's upset, since out of all my friends she was always the one who annoyed me on purpose.

How twisted must I already be becoming if sadness drags comfort out of me now?

No matter, it won't be long before I'm dead.

**DISTRICT NINE FEMALE: GENEVA TORRES**

"Why do we even have to go?" I shout downstairs to where my parents are sitting in the kitchen, "Why bother? Giselle and I are hardly in that Reaping bowl at all, why do we have to go? We shouldn't have to support this!"

"Geneva…" My father's voice drifts upstairs, muffled by walls and distance.

"Tell me why!"

"Geneva," he repeats, harsher, "tone it down."

"We're alone in this house," I retort, "I can say what I want!"

He mutters something that I can't fully hear. Probably along the lines of 'You need to learn respect and boundaries', one of the lessons I've been hearing since I couldn't even walk. One of the lessons that I've never taken seriously.

I grumble to myself as I slip into a lilac summer dress. It's miserably humid outside, everything about the day is conspiring against me. Ew.

Something about the ensemble feels oddly incomplete until I put my hand in one of the dress's pockets. Sitting on my dresser is the ribbon that I always keep with me, and I grudgingly slip it into my pocket. I don't even talk to Isis anymore, but a piece of her still comes with me wherever I go. I'm just pitiful sometimes.

Going downstairs, I nearly collide with my little sister Giselle as she heads back up to our shared room to finish getting ready to go (the main difference between us being that she prepares without complaint). She squeaks in surprise and I giggle, squashing myself against the wall to let her pass. Then I meet my parents in the kitchen, my father still wearing his infamous 'tone it down, Geneva' expression. Luckily, Mother is just drinking her coffee and she offers me a smile. I return that sentiment gladly.

"Good morning, Geneva," she says calmly, sipping her coffee carefully.

"Hi Mother."

"Is Giselle upstairs getting ready?" Father asks, his tone much more stern. I nod in reply, fighting back the desire to make another complaint about Reaping Day. Maybe I sort of do like the 'tone it down's I always get. Acquired taste, perhaps? Or just acknowledgement.

"Wasn't she ready to go before she came downstairs to eat?" I wonder aloud; Mother shakes her head. Guess I missed something while I was still half asleep. Shrugging, I march over to the stove to collect the remnants of the family breakfast: pancakes and sausage links. It makes me simultaneously proud and upset that we have one of the best breakfasts in the district today.

I eat in silence for a few minutes, wolfing down my breakfast to get away from the awkward silence of the dining room table, before Giselle returns downstairs, adorable as always in her pink dress.

"Do I look all right?" she frets.

I grin. "Will I have to beat up any wannabe suitors for you?" Giselle blushes and laughs at me; I just roll my eyes.

"Geneva, tone it down. You won't be attacking anyone."

"I know, Father, I know!"

Mother shoots both of us a regal, angry glance. "Girls, you can go on ahead to the town square. Your father and I will be there soon after, we'll just clean up here." I hurriedly wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, jump up, and herd Giselle to the door.

Caught between a rock and a hard place: the awkward but secure breakfast or the relative freedom of the town square on Reaping Day.

Freedom. That'll be my choice every single time. Why am I so predictable?

Giselle manages to get out a goodbye to our parents before I close the door behind us and we join the flow of other kids on the way to the square. I immediately start scanning the faces near us for friends… or in my case, it's more likely to find enemies. Sigh. The prices you pay when you're honest.

Of course, just my luck, the first familiar face I see belongs to Isis, the one girl I've sworn not to talk to again. (My fingers automatically reach for the old ribbon in my pocket, but I force them down to my side out of pure spite.) Instead of continuing my path and come up alongside her, I slow down and make sure she's far enough ahead that we won't run into each other.

Giselle gives me a weird look when I veer off path, but I've already seen Talia and I'm making a beeline towards my best friend.

"Geneva!" she cheers when she sees me coming towards her.

"Hey sweetheart," I joke, slinging an arm around her shoulders.

"And you know it," she replies.

"Have you seen Mariana around anywhere? It'd be nice to be the trio today. Emotional support and all that."

"Nah, not yet, she hasn't shown up. Either she'll run in still wearing her pajamas or, more likely, she's already inside, waiting for us."

"Well, I hope it's the second, but with our Mariana who knows?" We laugh, stepping up to the Peacekeeper's table with Giselle in our wake and hands already outstretched. The needle doesn't hurt too much and as soon as I've been registered I'm dashing off to the other seventeen-year-old girls, scowling at anyone who gives me a nervous glance. I'm in no mood to talk with anyone but my friends.

Mariana is actually waiting for us, and as we approach she breaks into a grin and nearly tackles me into the ground with a hug. "Sup, ladies?" she greets us with easy confidence.

"Nothing much, just… this," I reply, sticking my tongue out at the stage.

"Yeah, the one day I get someplace early you two are nearly late."

We laugh, but the Mayor steps up to begin the speech and it kills the mood effectively.

"So we'll have to catch up fully after the ceremony?" Mariana whispers.

"Yeah, sounds good," I reply.

Talia worms her way in between the two of us and nervously grabs our hands. I squeeze back to comfort her. We'll get through this.

**DISTRICT NINE MALE: ARCAS KODO**

Our escort takes her place on stage, tall and powerful and terrifying, honestly. I've never seen her before, so I guess she's new?

Yeah. Definitely new. I would have had nightmares if she'd been here before.

"Good morning, District Nine," she says, sounding like some sort of magical queen with a resounding voice that echoes around the square, "Welcome to the Reaping ceremony for the Twentieth Annual Hunger Games. We will be selecting two tributes, as always, for the glorious honor of competing in the arena."

I shrink down among the other fourteen year olds, hoping, somehow, that it'll decrease my chances of being selected. Hoping that she won't see me.

"I am Ausonia Marullus, and I will be your Capitol escort this year, District Nine. Let us begin the selection by choosing a female competitor!"

She strides over to the first glass bowl, shoving her hand among the paper slips to select a name. I have a petty wish for her to get an awful paper cut. If some kid has to go fight, it would be a small favor for her to feel something too.

But of course it doesn't happen, because I never guess things accurately, and she comes back to the microphone and reads in her booming voice, "Geneva Torres!"

The girl is older than most of us other kids, seventeen or eighteen surely, and taller than most of my older siblings, even one of my ineligible older brothers. She walks with grace, and that is just as impressive as Ausonia's big voice.

She has to be scared, right? Isn't everyone scared? I've been trying all day to not be scared like my brothers and parents and grandparents told me- they told my sister Cynthia the same thing, but she's seventeen so I don't think she got told as many times. I'm old enough to not be babied, I don't know why they insist on doing that sort of thing.

I watch Geneva carefully as she stands onstage beside Ausonia. There isn't a lot of fear in her eyes, but she could be hiding it. I would try to hide it.

I shift my eyes and attention back to Ausonia just as she unfolds the second slip. "Arcas Kodo!"

Forget hiding it.

My heart feels like it forgot how to beat, and I'm convinced I'm dying already. It takes a couple seconds for the word 'shock' to work its way into my mind.

I've done crazy things my whole life, haven't I? With my friends, we've done plenty of stupid things. Seriously, my whole family chides me on it all the time. If I do stupid things, can I be smart for once and maybe get through this? Kids younger than me have gotten really far in the Games.

That gives me the courage to step forward, just before the Peacekeepers reach my location to bring me forward by force.

My legs are shaking but I survive the walk to the stage, joining terrifyingly powerful Ausonia and terrifyingly controlled Geneva onstage. Up close, Geneva doesn't seem as collected and cool, and I can sense anger. Maybe she is just good at hiding it?

They take us back into the Justice Building, but by now my legs are so reluctant to move I can't move until Ausonia nudges me to turn around, motivating me to motion.

My family comes into the room all together, pushing and stumbling over each other to cram the whole big group into the visiting room.

They're finally all paying attention to me. Who could have imagined that it would take this turn of events to catch their eyes?

Mother, Father, and Grandmother are all crying as they surround me, clasping my hands and Mother crushing me in a tight hug, the closest display of affection I feel like I've ever gotten. Father's wiping his eyes, still trying to hide his tears as they slide down his face. Grandma's whispering something to herself, I can only catch a name or so that I recognize from the studies she tried to give me when I was little. "Jesus…" I don't even know what she's going on about.

My siblings are crying as well, Trinity crying the hardest with Cynthia barely containing hysterical cries. Even Klaus has watery eyes.

"You can come home, okay?" Cynthia encourages me, putting her hands on my shoulders and shaking me a little bit.

"Arcas, we believe in you, all right?" Trinity and Klaus aren't quite in sync, since they're not crying at the same rate.

Mother calms down enough to crack a few more of my ribs. "I can't believe this has happened to my baby!"

"Mother, I'm old enough to win. I'm not twelve, I'm fourteen. I'm fast and smart, enough to pull all those dumb pranks you hated, remember?"

She doesn't even seem to hear me. "My baby!"

What if I'm not a baby anymore, Mother? Ever thought of that?

Malachi steps forward from the back of the crowd with dry eyes. "Old enough to win, Arcas? You're a year younger than the youngest Victor, and you're pretty fragile as it is. You've never been the best at anything in this family… I suggest getting used to the thought of death."

He lays a hand on Mother's shoulder.

"You don't even think I have a chance?"

Begrudgingly, Malachi shakes his head, but Klaus gently shoves him out of the way and kneels down next to me. "Don't listen to him. Trust yourself, Arcas."

"Good to see ya, Klaus. You spend most of your time with Alicia these days."

"You're my little brother, I would never disappear on you."

He backs up and pulls Malachi back with him, frowning at my other big brother.

Grandmother, still whispering to herself, pulls Grandfather to my side and helps him sit down. Everyone grows quiet to give the old man a chance to speak.

"Who… who is this again?"

He doesn't remember me. That disease he has, All- Seltzer or something, made him forget me today.

I glance at Grandma and Mother, hoping for something.

"We won't ever forget you, honey," Mother says, "As soon as Grandpa comes round, we won't let him forget either. You'll always be with us."

The door slams. Malachi has left the room.

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**I'm actually pretty proud of this chapter XD**

**Hey, is it just me or are you guys disappearing? Each chapter is getting a fraction of the views of the previous. If it's the story I'd like to know what's wrong.**

**Sooo... questions!**

_**Favorite from these four and why?**_

_**Which of the tributes so far do you most relate to and why?**_

_**What interests you most about SYOTs?**_

**And as always, tell me what you thought!**


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